


Valentine's Week 2021

by Lu_undy



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Fluff, M/M, mild spice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:28:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29288340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lu_undy/pseuds/Lu_undy
Summary: This work is for the Valentine's week event organised by @dontneedadispenser :)Each chapter will be released each day with a theme.
Relationships: Sniper/Spy (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 76
Collections: dontneedavalentine2021





	1. Beginning/Ending

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: Beginning/Ending/Family.  
> I did not choose family.

There was a knock at the door with the knife symbol. 

Dinner was done with and Sniper had taken his time washing the dishes. Oddly enough, Spy didn't stay with him in the kitchen to help. Mundy knew that the Frenchman was sometimes just a bit tired of everyone's chattering at the dinner table. 

"Huh?" Sniper frowned. His knocks received no answer. He knocked again. 

"Come in." 

Mundy pushed the door and entered. 

"Hey, darl'! Sorry for the wait, loads of dishes tonight and I kept daydreamin' away." Mundy removed his sleeveless jacket and put it on the coat hanger without thinking about it. He looked over to the sofa. Lucien was standing up, pacing the room in front of the fireplace. Mundy went on. "Well, to be honest, I was uh… I was thinkin' of you. Couldn’t wait to see you."

Mundy took a seat on the sofa but Lucien kept on walking left, right, left, right. 

"Love?"

The Frenchman stopped pacing the room and sighed. That's when Mundy noticed the overfilled ashtray on the coffee table and the bottle of wine of a non French château. That, in Lucien's language, was bad news. Mundy's eyes shot back up to his lover. He was maskless, the first few buttons of his shirt were open and he had rolled his sleeves up. He was smoking what looked like his billionth cigarette. 

"Somethin's wrong?" Mundy stood up and went to his lover. "Hey, Lu'?" He went to wrap his arms around the man who looked so handsome, even if his hair was ruffled and his brow furrowed. But Lucien pushed him back and took a step away from him. "Lucien?" 

Mundy's heart sank to his feet. He was used to Lucien having his moments of distress, of doubt, of frustration, especially when he thought back about his past days, or as he called it, his past  _ life. _ But never before had he rejected Mundy's affection. On the contrary, Lucien always welcomed it warmly as he knew that it was in fact all he needed.

"Lu'...?" Mundy stayed there, his arms open for a hug that he never received. Lucien was giving him his back. "What is it? Did I do somethin'?"

"Non." Was the first word that the Frenchman finally uttered.

"What is it, then? Tell me." 

Lucien sighed and walking past Mundy, he crushed his cigarette butt in the ashtray on the coffee table.

"Take a seat, Sniper." 

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. Lucien never called him "Sniper" in private… He would at least use his name, if not a  _ "mon amour"  _ or another pet name. Mundy nonetheless obeyed while his eyes never left his lover. Lucien carded his hair back, still standing in front of the dancing flames of the fireplace. He took a deep breath and sighed.

"I… Think that the arrangement we have been having for months now should come to an end." 

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"W-what? The  _ arrangement? _ " The Aussie was not only distraught but almost disturbed by how cold-blooded the word was.  _ Arrangement.  _ They hadn’t signed a contract or anything, it just.... It just happened! 

Lucien turned and his ice blue eyes met with Sniper. Mundy's heart had stopped.

"I am sorry as this must come as a surprise to you. But I have thought it through, again and again. You see," Lucien started pacing the room again in front of a devastated Mundy. "At first it was only once here, once there. Physical needs, nothing personal. But it has grown into something that has now invaded my life." 

Lucien paused to take a deep breath. 

"I…" Mundy was speechless and utterly bewildered. "What…?" He was holding his tears back while Lucien walked back and forth in front of him, with his gloved hands in his pockets and his eyes glued to the ground. 

"Now, you have crossed a dangerous line, Sniper, the line of sentimentality. You hold  _ feelings _ in your heart for me. Non, do not try to argue, I can see it in your eyes and in your body language. Long gone are the days in which you would wait for me to open the door for you, long gone are the days where I had to put your vest on the coat hanger for you. You now walk in this suite with baffling familiarity." 

"I'm sorry… Spook, please…?" 

"Non." Lucien stopped sharp and looked Mundy in the eye. "No more  _ 'Spook'. _ And pray let me finish." 

Mundy put a hand on his mouth. His heart had either stopped completely or was about to burst out of his chest. His legs were unresponsive and his fingers trembled on their own. 

"You see, this  _ arrangement  _ could only last so long, here, in the middle of this base, both of us working to test weapons for a hat making company. None of this makes sense, but of course, neither do you or I. You, the solitary hunter, an exceptional sharpshooter; and me, the man of a million secrets whose very face remains one for most."

Lucien paused and went to take a seat on the armchair. Mundy's eyes stayed riveted on where he was standing. His heart was broken to smithereens. After all that time, after those battles, after all those evenings of silly drinking, all those getaways in the van, on the weekends, all those outings to town, the meals, the movies…?

"W-why? I… I understand you want more space, it's ok, I can give you that, I won't come here unless you ask if that's better, Spook, but please don’t destroy everything." He pleaded.

"Non. You do not understand." 

Lucien stood up again and walked around the sofa. 

"You do not understand." He headed to his bedroom and emerged again. Mundy was now standing up. He had removed his glasses and his hat. 

"You do not understand that I am tired of your knocks on my door."

"I do understand! And now what? You're leavin' me! After all we did and all! You're just… You just spent ages here telling me that I'm just invading your space, well, if that's the problem then I can see you less often, I'm sorry! I didn't know you didn't like it as much as I do!" Mundy answered. His heartbreak had turned to anger and frustration. 

"On that you are right, I do not enjoy your visits as much as you do." 

Mundy's jaw dropped but he quickly clenched it and frowned furiously. 

"Well then I won't come here again! Just… Just come to the van whenever  _ you  _ fancy!"

"Non. That will not be necessary." Lucien answered, still as cold-blooded as ever. 

"Doesn't it do anythin' to you?!" Mundy exclaimed. "Any bloody thing?"

"What?" 

"For fuck's sakes, we've been together for months now and out of the blue you snap at me and break up, and you expect me to just say ok and walk away?! I thought we were honest enough to understand each other! I thought…! Bloody hell!" Mundy punched the wall and clenched his jaw harder. The pain felt good, it poured cold water on his boiling nerves. "Why didn't you say anythin earlier? How the hell did you just turn like that? I mean… I don't get it…! I thought we were doin' very well and…ugh." Mundy covered his eyes with his sleeve to wipe the tears and hide his face. He turned his back to Lucien. 

"Sniper?"

He didn't answer. 

“I apologise for the suddenness of this. I understand that it does come as a surprise. I do admit it is rather impulsive of me.”

“Rather impulsive?! Rather imp - Mate!” Mundy snapped. “You’re telling me you just woke up this morning and thought ‘Oh yeah, let’s dump him!’ Is that what happened? Bloody hell! I was so wrong about you! I thought…!”

“What?”

“Well if Scout had reacted that way, yeah, right, I guess he’s young and he is how he is, but you?  _ You? _ You’re… You’re much more mature, you’re more calm, you think before you do stuff, right? You don’t just wake up with an impulse and act on it!” Mundy’s shoulders sank as he sighed. “Guess I was wrong about that… Guess I was wrong about everything… Fuck me…”

“Sniper?”

“No! Stop! It’s… It’s horrible. It’s just horrible.” Mundy looked up at Lucien. “And you smile? You bloody smile at me? Was that the plan all along? Get me in your bed a few nights, toy with me and throw me out? Oh you bloody…” Mundy clenched his fist and threw it at Lucien’s face. The Frenchman dodged it with ease.

"Mundy?" Lucien asked with a high-pitched voice and a smug grin on his lips.

Mundy's eyes snapped open and he turned to Lucien.

"Shut up!” He threw another fist but it met with Lucien’s shadow on the wall.

“Mundy, you don’t understand!”

“Of course I bloody do! You used me!” The Aussie leapt to Lucien and this time he managed to catch his collar. 

“Mundy, wait-!”

“No!” He pushed Lucien on the floor and headbutted him, straddling his body. “You have no idea how much I love you! And you went around makin’ me believe you felt the same but you were just playin’, you bastard! You heartless piece of shit!” He yelled, his hoarse voice trying to strangle down the cries and sobs through the punches he dealt.

“Mundy! Stop!”

Lucien’s shout made the Aussie's fist freeze mid-way to his jaw. His breath broke out of sync and his tears streamed down his face silently. There he was, on his knees, straddling a body that he used to be straddled by, at night, when no other eyes would see its beauty. Yeah, Lucien was gorgeous. The bastard was gorgeous, a lean body with shy muscles that Mundy used to touch, sometimes even scratch. Lucien liked his feral Bushman. He used to love him, or maybe he didn’t, eh?

Regardless, Mundy was now silently crying. He wasn’t one to usually let it show. Now that he recalled, everytime that he had been dumped, he’d go back to his van, drive far away and let his rage out on cacti, boulders, and game. Maybe he should do that, hop away and leave for his van?

No, he couldn’t. He looked down and saw the collar he was grasping firmly, his knuckles were bruised from the punches. Oh, Lucien’s nose was bleeding too and his eyes. Gosh his eyes… Even injured, the man had the bloody arrogance to look irresistible.

“Mundy?” Lucien asked and put his hands on Mundy’s.

“Shut up, please.”

“Non, you don’t… You don’t understand.”

“Repeat that one last time and I’ll make you eat your bloody teeth, ok?” Mundy’s voice was trembling. He closed his eyes and more tears were pushed to roll down his slender and rough cheeks. “You’re right.” Mundy sniffed. “I did fall in love with you. Fuck me, I did.”

Lucien smiled.

“But you’re wrong. I didn’t just fall for you recently.” The Aussie went on. “I’ve been in love with you since day one. Bah, doesn’t matter now I s’ppose.” Mundy wiped his face with his sleeve.

“ _ Attends.” _

_ [Wait.] _

Lucien slipped his fingers inside Mundy’s palm before his hand flopped to the floor limply.

“What’s that?” Mundy frowned and opened his palm. “What?!” He exclaimed when he saw a silver shining key with a knife symbol carved on it. “What’s that mean? Lu’? Oh bugger...”

Lucien’s eyes were shut. When he opened them again, he was greeted with the view of Mundy’s jaw from underneath. He was lying on the sofa and his head was resting on the Aussie’s lap.

“Mundy?”

“Oh, you up now? Sorry… I hit you hard.”

Lucien smiled and it was sweet.

“Give me your hand, please.” He asked and Mundy obliged. 

“What’s that all about? You‘re breakin’ up with me but giving me a key to your place and now you’re holding my hand. What does that mean?”

“It means that - and please do not punch me more for this -  _ non, you don’t understand.” _

“Alright then, explain yourself.”

“ _ Mon amour…  _ When I said that what we have been having should come to an end, I was not breaking up with you. On the contrary… Argh, help me please.” Lucien sat up and Mundy helped him. “I meant that I wanted to take things one step further, if you so wish too.”

“What?” Mundy’s jaw dropped.

“I never thought that you had fallen for me since the first time, because  _ I did _ and it was simply out of any kind of understanding that  _ you _ should feel the same for the old man that I am.”

“Wh…?”

"A few decades ago, oui, I would have believed it. Back then, I looked lovable, the sort of man who would make men and women's hearts break at the simple blink of my eyes. But now? Tss…" Lucien shook his head.

"Hey, now… Y-you're gorgeous, ok?"

Lucien looked up at Mundy and grinned, albeit sadly. 

"I would love to believe so." 

"C'mon… But yeah, tell me." 

Lucien sighed.

“Mundy," He looked the Aussie in the eye. "I love you.” 

The Aussie’s jaw dropped. It was the first time he heard it from those thin lips.

“I love the time that we spend together.” Lucien looked at his lover’s lagoon blue eyes.

“But you said my comin’ and goin’ here was annoying?”

“It is annoying that I have to tell you to come in each time. I want you to come here and consider this your home as much as mine, at least for the winter. You can’t stay in your van, you will freeze to death.” Lucien explained. “So please, take this key and… my heart, once and for all.” He tightened the grip on Mundy's hand. "Please?" 

"B-But… Hold on. All the things you said…?"

"You chose to understand them the wrong way." 

"But you said you didn't like it when I come here…?"

Lucien chuckled. 

"Non, I did not say that. I said that I did not appreciate your visits as much as you do." 

"Well, same difference!"

"Not at all." The Frenchman explained and put a hand on his lover's cheek. "Hasn't it occurred to you that I enjoy your visits  _ more _ than you do, and not  _ less _ ?"

Mundy fell silent.

"Of course, it did not."

"You never told me. You never showed…!" Mundy answered, out of breath under the surprise. 

"And you expect me," Lucien leaned back on the sofa. "The best secret intelligence expert that you ever had the privilege of meeting, and dare I say, the man you have fallen in love with, to simply show you my emotions?" 

"Why not?" 

"I am the Spy." Lucien answered. "I do  _ not _ show what I feel."

"Why not?" 

"Would you still love me if I did? Would you have taken the risk of falling for me, if you knew what was in my heart; if through that infamous scope of yours you could see the contents of my heart?"

Mundy looked at Lucien with lovestruck eyes. His pupils dilated and his shoulders slowly sank. He relaxed and leaned back on the sofa. Oh how he loved the sound of Lucien's voice…! Mundy laid an arm on the sofa's back and like a reflex, Lucien snuggled up closer to him. 

"One of the reasons you fell for me, Mundy, is because you like the mysteries in me. You like the thrill of that leap of faith you take each time that you doubt my love for you and yet decide to follow your heart anyway. You like this doubt, it makes you vibrate with a curious warmth right here." Lucien gently tapped Mundy's chest, on his heart.

“How d’you do it?”

“How do I do what?”

“How d’you know me that well? Even my mum wouldn’t know what you just told me.” Mundy answered.

“Quite simply, because I am  _ not _ your mother.” Lucien tapped the tip of Mundy’s nose and the Aussie smiled, making wrinkles appear on his nose and at the corner of his tired eyes. “I apply to be your lover.”

“You  _ apply?” _ Mundy repeated with a chuckle. “It’s not a job or anythin’, eh?”

“Oh but you are wrong!” Lucien answered. “Look at my face that you disfigured a moment ago. Being your lover is a dangerous job, and a full time one!”

Mundy’s face beamed up with a smile.

“In that case, I’ll look at your application. You can leave it on my desk and I’ll call you back when I’ve looked at the hundreds of others, eh.”

“As if…” Lucien answered with a smirk.

“You think you’re the only one who looks up at me with those eyes of yours?” Mundy took his lover’s chin and stroked his cheek with his thumb. “Well, you’re wrong darl’. You’re not the only one to have some success, eh?”

“I do not doubt that, but you will find my application to be absolutely outstanding.”

“Ooh, is it, now?”

Lucien rolled on his side to straddle his lover’s lap. 

“I can give you a presentation, show you my skills. You may also have heard of my reputation in the field.” Lucien wrapped his arms around Mundy’s neck. 

“You arrogant Frenchie…” Mundy’s hands slid down his lover’s sides.

“And you love it.”

“I kinda do, yeah.”

“So, what do you think? Will you accept my key, and me?” Lucien asked.

“Get off of my lap one second.”

Lucien’s eyebrows jumped in surprise but he obeyed and stood up off of the sofa. Mundy stood up too and Lucien watched as his lover kicked his boots away and got closer to him again.

“Sorry about your nose. Don’t think I broke it though.”

“Non, you did not, even though it still hurts.”

“Oh, c’mere then, I’ll take care of ya tonight.” Mundy cupped his lover’s face and pulled it to himself. He rested his forehead on Lucien’s and whispered. “Listen, love…”

“Oui…?” Lucien closed his eyes and let himself relax. His eyebrows rose and arched high up on his brow. It felt like his entire body was between the rough and calloused palms of the scruffy hunter.

“Don’t scare me like that ever again, ok?” Mundy asked.

“I cannot promise anything. It was mildly entertaining to see your distress. Besides, I had never heard you declare your love for me.”

“Stop smirkin’, you sexy devil. Look at you, even with your eyes closed, you look smug.”

They both chuckled.

“Does that mean I have got the position?” Lucien asked.

“Hold on, darl’, we gotta see how well you can do on the job, eh?” Mundy’s hands slid down to Lucien’s slim waist. “What d’you say to a first night on the job, as a test, see if you can handle it, hm?”

“I have been handling you for months,  _ mon loup…” _ Lucien answered and pushed himself to the tip of his toes to kiss his lover.

[my wolf]

“Yeah, but I never knew you loved me back. Now I gotta up my game with ya. C’mere!”

“Mundy!”

The Aussie swept him off the floor and carried him away to  _ their _ bedroom.

“Hold on, Mundy?”

“Yeah?”

Lucien was in his lover’s arms in a position that had his insides burn with a delicious flame. He had his arms wrapped around Mundy's neck and his feet dangling off of the Aussie's arms.

“ _ Je t’aime.” _

“Love you too, gorgeous."


	2. Chocolates

The day of battles had been tiring on the nerves and exhausting on the body. Hence, the Australian sharpshooter was standing immobile under the shower head, facing it. The hot water was pouring, trickling down his body. The stall was foggy with all the vapor that had been created, as the drops of water hit his tanned skin relentlessly.

Sniper had his eyes closed and stood there, his hair stuck to his lowered head, his shoulders hunched. When he opened his eyes, he saw his feet and legs, a few shades whiter than his arms. He exhaled and he heard the sound of his breath on top of the shower's white noise.

The hot water was working wonders on his tired body. Standing almost immobile and holding his rifle for hours on end did take a toll on him. After all these years, he thought the pain would go, but it never did. 

"Snipes, you alright pal?" Scout's voice made Sniper's jaw clench. 

"Piss off."

"You're gonna miss dinner if ya-"

"I said: piss off!"

"Alright, alright…! Jeez…"

Sniper heard the door to the common bathroom shut and he sighed in relief. What was he thinking about again before Scout intruded and broke his train of thoughts…?

Ah, yeah, hot water on his back. 

Sniper turned to give his back to the shower head and let the water hit his aching shoulders and shoulder blades. He hissed under the delightful sizzling sensation on his surprised skin. The water was a bit too hot but the burning stings he felt under the sharp drops stabbing his back like needles was delicious. 

_ Stabbing his back… _

Sniper opened his eyes and turned to stop the shower. The water cut too abruptly for his ears which still rang with the white noise of the shower. Shame it had to stop, he liked that noise. It felt as though it wrapped him in his solitude as well as - if not better than - the walls of the shower stall. 

A few minutes later, the Aussie was in his van and dressed up. It was mid February and the weather was still closer to winter than to summer. Sniper sat on his bench and looked through the window of his campervan. Nothing but a dark sky cut by the silhouette of the base building. A few windows were lit here and there. Sniper's eyes went to three of them to the right of the building. No lights. 

"Hm." 

It had been a few weeks since he had moved his van to that side of the building. That way, he could enjoy the sun better and not be in the shade of the base. Winter was cold enough as it was.

Sniper was hungry but didn't want to sit in the middle of his colleagues and their chatter. So he decided to wait and go to the kitchen later. Meanwhile, he shall lean back on his bench and close his eyes. They deserved a rest as much as the rest of his body. 

His body relaxed and he managed to fall asleep. To his credit, Sniper could sleep anywhere and in any position with baffling ease. His mind managed to extract him out of his surroundings and isolate him from any and all external stimuli. 

His breath was steady and his mind was swimming in that strange realm between his active thoughts and the nonsense his subconscious had prepared for him. But the subconscious asserted itself and went to the projector behind his shut eyelids. The movie reel was put in place and soon it started rolling, displaying images to a spectator whose ticket to attend this phantasmagoric show was to roll down his eyelids. 

The battlefield. The scope. Tunnel vision. Loud booms of rockets and explosives slashed by the flash of bullets slicing the air. 

On his shoulder, a sensation, something weighing down, tapping his shoulder. Hootsy? No, it was too soft to be the owl's claws. The soft feeling slid up on his shoulder and was now on his cheek. Velvet brushing against his rough skin and his stubble that he had forgotten to take care of for a few days now. Bah, who cared.

Gosh it was soft. Even against his sharp and short beard, Mundy could feel it. Warm velvet. He smiled. 

Oh, the air had a smell now. He knew that smell. Bitter, yet addictive, with a hint of mint…? Lord, and that perfume…! Mundy's chest heaved as he took deeper breaths. He wanted to smell it more, smell it better. That tint in the air that he liked so much. It smelt of… Comfort, safety.

Mh? What was that? It smelt sweet all of a sudden. Mundy's eyebrows twitched and he frowned. Sweet, but not too sweet. Sweet but bitter. Earthy, very earthy. A plant, a fruit, but also something that made his mouth gently water and his tongue push a bit harder on his palate. 

Chocolate? 

Mundy opened his eyes and woke up from his dream. 

" _ Bonjour,  _ Sniper."

Spy was sitting next to him on the bench and was smiling. He had switched on the Aussie's night lamp and now the campervan's insides shone in warm tones of orange and gold.

"Mh… How did you come in?" Sniper opened one eye and then the next.

"Through the door." The masked man answered. 

"Had it locked." Sniper rubbed his eyes from under his yellow aviators. 

"And I unlocked it." 

"You got a key?"

"Non."

"Mh." Sniper grumbled as he blinked repeatedly to wake up fully. He looked on the table. Two plates were laid that smelt wonderfully. "What's that?"

"Dinner. I presume you are hungry."

"Yeah." 

"Then, please, bon appétit." 

"I thought Engie and Pyro made their spaghetti today…?" Sniper asked while staring at the lasagna in his plate. 

"They did." Spy answered. 

"Then what's this?"

"A lasagna." 

"Yeah, I know. I meant, did they also make a lasagna?" Sniper asked. 

"Non." Spy had cut a small portion of it and elegantly raised his fork to his mouth. He ate and answered. "I made this lasagna." 

"You?" 

"Oui. Please do enjoy it while it is still warm." 

Sniper took his fork and knife and started eating. 

"Mh…! What's in it? It's really good."

Spy smiled. 

"Spinach, ricotta and salmon. I replaced the tomato sauce with a bechamel." 

"It's really nice, Spy." Sniper ate more enthusiastically. "But why did you cook it? I've always seen you eat their spaghetti. It's not like you don't like it."

"So do you, and yet tonight, I didn't see you at the table." Spy answered as he wiped the corners of his mouth elegantly with a napkin. "How come?" 

"Was tired. Needed some time alone is all." 

"Ah. Then I should make myself scarce and leave you in peace." Spy answered. 

"N-no. You can stay, it's fine." 

The Frenchman raised his eyes to Sniper who pretended to be too absorbed by his lasagna to answer. 

"Thank you for tolerating my presence." Spy teased. 

"You're fine. I mean, you're not loud and messy. It's ok." 

"Do you mind if I smoke here?" Spy retrieved his cigarette case from his inner pocket. 

"No, it's fine." 

" _ Merci."  _ He lit a cigarette and passed the time with it while Sniper finished his much larger portion of lasagna. 

"Mh, so why did you cook this?" The Aussie asked again and his colleague exhaled the cigarette smoke elegantly, as if the waves of smoke held a secret message in the air. 

"Do you know what day it is today?" Spy asked. 

"Uhm… Friday?" 

The Frenchman chuckled. 

"I did not mean the day of the week, but the date on the calendar. Look." Spy pointed at the wall in front of them. A calendar was hung there. Sniper couldn't be bothered to cross out the days as they flew by but it helped keep track of time. 

"Mid February… Friday… The fourteenth? We're the fourteenth today." Sniper said as he put more of the delicious lasagna in his mouth. 

"Mh-hm." Spy nodded and exhaled more of his bitter and minty smoke. "What happens today then?" 

"I don't know… Is it your birthday?" Sniper teased and Spy chuckled, shaking his head. 

"I am afraid not. If you had in mind to offer me a hideous tie or a pair of socks, I am afraid you will have to wait." Spy answered. 

Sniper grinned. He liked Spy's smile. Shame he didn't show it more often. 

"I don't know then." The Aussie resumed his speech. "It's not my birthday and it isn't yours so uh… I don't know. Is there something special today? Did I miss a briefing or something?" 

"Non, don't worry. I did not expect you to remember this." 

"Mh?" Sniper put his fork and knife on the empty plate and raised an eyebrow. "What is it then?" 

"I have something for you." Spy crushed the cigarette butt on the ashtray on the table and pushed the plates and cutlery away. He then placed a bag on the table. It looked fancy to Sniper as it was made of navy blue glossy paper and the handles were white satin ribbons. 

"What's that?" 

"The civilised people in the city call it a gift, Bushman." 

Sniper rolled his eyes with a smile. 

"That's not what I meant."

"Yet, that is what you asked. Go ahead, have a look." 

Sniper took a deep breath and he had a second of hesitation. It had been ages since he had received anything from anyone. Well, a couple of months, to be precise. He did receive a knitted jumper from his mother for Christmas and a few very colourful feathers. He had no idea where they had come from and from whom, but they sure went beautifully with his hat and brightened his look a bit. 

"Right." 

Sniper pulled the bag to him and put it on his lap before extracting a box from it. It was rectangular and a bit bigger than a book. 

"What's that?" 

"A box." 

"Right… Guess you answered what I asked again…"

"A box with a ribbon." Spy added, just to tease with his colleague.

"Yeah, that helped…" Sniper chuckled and Spy joined him. "Let's open this." The Aussie found one end of the satin ribbon that held the box shut. As he pulled on it, he realised that it was Burgundy red, a few shades darker than the box itself. He opened it and-

"Oh, hold on, are these…? Chocolates?"

"Oui. Made by a  _ Maître Chocolatier _ that I personally know. He recently met the success that his creations entailed and opened a shop here in the United States." 

"Oh…"

"They are also excellent to wake anyone up from a nap, when a gentle tap on the shoulder does not work." Spy added with a sweet smile and Sniper's eyes snapped wide. So the chocolate he had smelt in his dream wasn't only a dream?

"Why are you givin' me chocolates, Spook?"

"It is the Fourteenth of February, Sniper." 

"Yeah, and? Is that a French thing?" 

"Non, I believe it is international." Spy stood up and collected his jacket from the bench opposite them. He slipped it on and went to the door. "I am sure you will find the chocolates delightful. Have a good evening." 

Spy opened the door and exited the van without adding a word, leaving Sniper baffled and confused. He frowned on his bench and squinted at the box. Why the hell would Spy give him some chocolates? What was that about? The Aussie looked up at the wall in front of him and saw the calendar. 

"What is it about today…?" He stood up and got closer to it. "Fourteenth… Yeah, Valent-huh?!" 

His breath cut short and he turned back to his door. Shit! Spy had left, he must have been back to his room! Sniper looked through the window, and yes, the three windows on the right of the base building were lit up!

"Bugger-!" Sniper grabbed the box and his hat before jumping out of the van. He ran back to the base and flung its door wide open, crossing the corridor still running. Scout talked to him but he did not pay any attention to it. Sniper stopped at the door with the knife symbol and knocked, out of breath. 

"Come in." 

He pushed the door and quickly slipped in. 

"Spook?"

Spy was on his armchair, his back to Sniper. As the Aussie came closer, he saw Spy was just sitting there, in front of the fireplace. Sniper looked around and saw that the only sources of light in the room were the dancing flames of the fireplace and the lamp next to Spy's armchair.

"Pray take a seat." The voice with the French accent said. 

Sniper obeyed and sat on the sofa. Between him and the fireplace laid a coffee table with a bottle of wine and two glasses. 

"Do you like red wine, Sniper?" 

"Yeah but… Spook, did you really get me chocolates for… For…"

" _ La Saint Valentin?" _ Spy finished for him as he uncorked the bottle and poured the wine in two glasses. "Oui, I did." He handed one to Sniper who took it without thinking. 

"But… Why?"

"Well, Bushman, let me educate you on this celebration. You see, Valentine's day is a day where the people from the city celebrate love." Spy smiled. "It can be any kind of love, it doesn't need to be romantic. It can be brotherly love, friendly love, love for your family, or of course, romantic love." 

"I know but…" Sniper frowned. "Which one is it?" 

Spy sat next to Sniper on the sofa and took a sip. He let the dark and bitter liquid sting his tongue and its aromas invade his mouth and his nose. He closed his eyes and let the wine sit in his mouth while he saw on his closed eyelids the landscapes of his childhood. Neatly arranged lines of vineyards, spreading as far as the eye could see.

When he opened his eyes again, he swallowed it down and let his tongue wipe his palate gently as he nodded to himself in appreciation. 

"I will let you choose, Sniper." He finally answered.

"What? No, what was your intention?" 

The Frenchman smiled. His eyes never met with the Aussie until now. 

"What is yours?"

"What?"

"Why did you come out of your den of a van and knock on my door? You could have stayed there and enjoyed the chocolates and yet, you have decided to come all the way here with them and you are now drinking a glass of wine with me, on Valentine's day." 

Sniper blushed and lowered his head. 

"So I wonder," Spy went on. "What is  _ your  _ intention?" 

"I… I don't know. Doesn't make sense to eat them alone." He muttered. 

"So you have come to share some chocolates with me?"

"I guess." Sniper answered, as he realised that he didn't know why he had run to Spy's suite. 

"You  _ guess? _ Come on, Sniper, not to me." Spy answered and the Aussie looked at him, ashamed and confused. "You may lie to yourself all you want, but you cannot lie to me. I read you like an open book. What is it that concerns you?" 

Sniper sighed. Of course Spy had to be clever… 

"I don't know… I don't know why I came here. Maybe… Maybe I should go." Sniper stood up and headed to the door. 

"And leave without the answer to your question?" Spy said and Sniper froze. "That would render your trip here useless and fruitless." 

"Hm." Sniper grumbled, his hand on the door handle. 

"I made this gift to you with one intention." Spy continued from the sofa. "And one intention only." 

Sniper turned and looked at him. Spy gestured to him to resume his seat and the Aussie obeyed. 

"Alright, tell me." 

Spy smirked. 

"I am tiring you, am I not?" The Frenchman asked with a sweet grin. 

"Not more than usual, Spook." Sniper smiled back. 

"I think that, like you, I do not like to look too deep into myself. To be honest, I felt the urge to offer you something and share it with you. Amongst all the people here, you are the one I tolerate best. As you said to me earlier, you are quiet and, to use your own words,  _ 'not messy'. _ I went to town and bought these chocolates. When I returned, I was informed that like me, you had not shared dinner with the rest of the team. Unlike me however, it was not because you were out of the base, but because you had been  _ 'swimming in the shower for hours'." _

"What?"

"Those were Scout's words." 

"Ah…" 

"So I decided to cook myself some dinner. And after Scout's remark, I thought I could share whatever I was cooking with you." 

"Thanks. I was really hungry but I just didn't have the energy for everyone's chatter."

"I understand."

"But, hold on, did you… know that today was Valentine's day?" Sniper asked. 

"Wasn't I the one who pointed it out to you?" 

"Yeah… Right… Still, I don't know how to take it." Sniper said. 

"Like a gift."

"From a friend?" 

"If you so wish." 

"Spook, please, be clear and stop avoidin' the subject." Sniper asked. 

"Fine." Spy put his glass back on the coffee table. He raised his head to his colleague. "Valentine's day in France does not celebrate friendly feelings of attachment."

"Spook...?" Sniper asked, unconvinced by the answer.

"I have answered." Spy crossed one leg on the other and straightened his back.

"Be clear." 

"I have." 

"No. Say it."

"I did." 

"Spook…?"

"Arh…" Spy sighed and put his gloved hand on his face. "It started on the battlefield, the day you called me Spook for the first time. And then, despite no one else barely engaging in a discussion with me, you always say a few words in the locker room. Sometimes it is just banter, other times, it does seem like you are including me in the general chats. I dearly appreciate it as I understand the ambient distrust towards me. After all, I am the Spy and even my face is a mystery to all of you." 

Sniper nodded, his face showed that he understood and even shared his friend's distress. 

"I'm sorry you feel that way." He said. 

"Don't be. I do enjoy being on my own for most of the time, as you do." Spy answered. 

"Yeah, I do. But it's nice to have a chat here and there. Banter's nice with you."

Spy smiled. 

"I enjoy it too, with you. Would you like to stay, perhaps?" He offered. 

"Uh… S'ppose I don't have anythin' else to do." Sniper sat on the sofa again. "So now what?"

"Now…" Spy removed his gloves and opened the chocolate box. He took one and raised it in front of Sniper's lips. The Aussie was burning in embarrassment. His cheeks were past crimson. "Happy Valentine's day."

Sniper's eyebrows jumped as his eyes crossed on the little chocolate. He raised his hand to take it but Spy pushed it away and nodded. Sniper parted his lips and closed his eyes to avoid the ice blue eyes of the man who made his heart beat in all sorts of places. Spy fed him and smiled. 

"So, what do you think of it?" He asked. 

"Mh… Dark chocolate… I like it. Better than milk or white." 

"They are my favourite too." 

"Spook, uh…" Sniper gulped down the candy. 

"Oui?" 

"Uh… Thanks." Sniper took a chocolate and put it in Spy's palm. 

"Non." Spy put it back in his hand. "Do what  _ this _ tells you to do." He poked the Aussie's chest.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. I will help you." Spy answered and took Sniper's wrist, raising it slowly from his lap. "Here, I did half of the job."

"You did the easy half." Sniper answered. 

"Well, you didn't even do it yourself. Now, go ahead. I promise that I will not bite." 

They both chuckled, Spy, to calm Sniper down and Sniper, out of nervousness. 

"R-right." Sniper raised his hand and got the chocolate close to Spy's lips. "Spook?" He asked, seeing that the Frenchman was not taking it.

"You forgot the words, Sniper."

"The words…? Oh, uh, happy Valentine's day to you too." 

Spy smiled and bit in the chocolate. Sniper's eyebrows jumped again when he saw that the Frenchman wasn't letting go of the chocolate. His teeth were planted at the surface of it but he seemed to be waiting for something.

"What?" Sniper asked. 

Spy wiggled his eyebrows. 

"N-Nah, Spook, I-I can't do that, I mean…" Sniper tripped on his words, blushed beyond his years and looked away as he chuckled nervously. 

Spy rolled his eyes and smiled. 

"Spook…"

The Frenchman wiggled his eyebrows again and gave a short nod. 

"Right…"

Sniper closed his eyes and got closer to the chocolate. His lips parted and he was about to bite it when-

"Mh-?!" 

The chocolate wasn't there anymore and instead, Spy was pushing his lips against him while his hand pulled Sniper from behind his neck. The Aussie's surprise melted and he rolled his eyes in bliss behind his closed eyelids. His insides burnt and his heart both swelled and melted in his ribcage.

Yes, if he had moved his van around the base, it was to have the view on Spy's suite and enjoy the sight of his silhouette, from time to time. 


	3. Autobalance

"You got all your stuff Spy? Taxi's on his way." Engineer asked as he knocked on the door with the knife symbol. 

"Oui, I am coming." The voice with the French accent answered. 

Inside the suite, Spy wasn't alone. He sighed as he picked up his suitcase and his mask before looking up at Sniper. 

"Spook…? You sure you can't stay?" 

"I do not think I can. The Administrator's orders were very clear, you received the same letter as I did. I am to be transferred to the enemy team and you will receive their Spy in exchange."

"Yeah… But why does it have to be like that?" Sniper asked, fumbling with his hat between his fingers. He had meant it as a rhetorical question, to express his distress more than anything else. But Spy answered anyway.

"Because we keep winning against them with baffling ease. It was high time that something was done about that."

"Couldn't she swap other people? You're not alone in this team!" 

Spy took the step that separated him from his lover and put his suitcase down. He splayed a hand on Sniper's chest. Like a reflex, his glove travelled up to Sniper's collar and adjusted it. Ah, Sniper didn't know how to dress up. But that was not why the Frenchman had fallen for him. Non, it was rather for his way of  _ undressing  _ the Frenchman, figuratively and concretely. 

Sniper had an innocence, a naivety almost, that touched Spy more deeply than anything else. He had learnt to ignore the scruffy looks, the almost feral manners and instead, found himself falling for them all. Those features were nothing but a wall hiding a kind of honesty and sensitivity too powerful to be understood by the common mortal. Spy had learnt to see through the campervan, the atrocious mullet, the equally hideous sideburns and the messy stubble on the skin tanned by years under the scorching sun of Australia. He had fallen for them all.

"Mundy." Spy said and Sniper, who had his head lowered, closed his eyes and frowned. "Look at me, please." 

"Can't. It hurts." 

"Please…?" Spy put his gloved hand under Sniper's chin and pulled it up until their eyes met. 

"Mh…" Sniper protested. 

"We will continue to see each other at work. This is not a goodbye." Spy said, trying to comfort him.

"Yeah, when you stab me in the back." Sniper sighed. 

"I will not spare you,  _ mon amour,  _ you know how much I like to scratch that back of yours." Spy wiggled his eyebrows and Sniper eventually managed to smile. 

"C'mere…" The Aussie wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in a tight hug as he buried his head in Spy's shoulder. "I'll miss you, luv'." He inhaled the expensive perfume and the menthol cigarette, the distinctive scent of the man he loved.

"I will miss you too." Of course Spy returned the dear embrace and they remained stuck to each other for a long while. Chest against chest, their breathing synced as their fingers clawed harder on each other. 

"Yo, Spy! Your taxi's comin'!" Scout shouted from the door. 

"Get lost!" Sniper shouted from the inside. 

"You are interrupting a moment, Scout." Spy added. 

"What kind of moment? C'mon, you gotta hurry, man!" 

Spy looked at Sniper and answered:

"The kind of moment you dream of having with Miss Pauling." 

Sniper chuckled.

"Oh guys! Jeez! Disgustin'...!" Scout's voice seemed to be deafened more as he walked away from the door. 

Spy and Sniper chuckled. 

"Right, let me carry this for you." Sniper took the suitcase off of Spy's hand. 

"Thank you, that is very kind of you." 

They headed for the door. 

"Well, gotta help the elderly, eh?" 

"Mundy!" Spy nudged him with his elbow. 

The Aussie chuckled and put his hand on the door knob. 

"Wait." He turned to Spy. "Lu'...?"

"Oui?" Lucien answered with a sweet smile. He was about to put on his mask.

"Can I uh… Can I kiss you, just one last time?" 

Lucien shook his head, his grin growing wider. 

" _ May _ I kiss you." He corrected. "And please, I am all yours." 

Mundy let go of the door handle and laced his arm around Lucien's waist, pulling him closer as he pushed his lips against him. Lucien wrapped his arms up around Mundy's neck and pushed himself to the tip of his toes, in his varnished Italian shoes. 

"Gosh, I'll miss your lips." Mundy stayed with his forehead against Lucien. His hand travelled up to his hair. He stroked it gently.

"Only my lips?" Lucien tapped the tip of Mundy's nose with his gloved finger before putting on his mask and passing in front of him to open the door. 

"Nah, definitely not only yer lips…" 

"Mundy-!" Lucien got startled when he felt from behind Mundy's powerful fingers grabbing him where he was quite sensitive. 

"C'mon, luv', let's go."

They exited the suite. Spy said goodbye to his team as the taxi arrived. The enemy Spy exited it and entered the base. He shook hands with his new teammates.

"Spy?"

"Spy." 

Both spies shook hands too. 

"Sniper, do you mind holding on to my suitcase, I will give the new Spy a tour of his suite." Lucien asked. 

"Sure. Don't be too long though, the taxi driver's waitin'."

"But of course." 

Both spies went to the door with the knife symbol and entered. It lasted a few minutes and soon, Lucien exited again. Mundy nodded to the front door and the Frenchman nodded. They exited the base and soon found themselves at the taxi's car.

"Hey, promise you'll go easy on my back?" 

"Only if you spare my head, and my suits."

"Your suits?" Mundy asked, not understanding.

"Your Jarate, Sniper." 

"Ah, yeah… Well, depends."

"On what, may I ask?" 

"If you behave." Mundy answered with a wink and Lucien blushed beyond his ears.

"Stop it."

"Make me." Mundy growled low enough that the taxi driver wouldn't hear and Lucien chuckled.

"I will see you tomorrow, as usual." The Frenchman said. 

"Yeah. Oh, hold on…" Mundy opened the car door for him.

"Oh… Merci." He slipped in the car on the backseat and fastened his seatbelt. 

Mundy tapped the window and Lucien lowered it. 

"Uh, I hope I'll say it right, but uh…  _ je t'aime."  _

[I love you.]

The pronunciation was tainted with a heavy English accent, the syllables were butchered and the sounds slaughtered. Lucien chuckled at how distorted it sounded from his Sniper's voice.

_ "Merci." _

_ [Thank you.] _

The driver started the engine and Mundy was left alone in front of the base, in the middle of the orange desert split by a grey line of asphalt. The car looked smaller and smaller as the taxi driver flew like the wind. Eventually, it completely disappeared and Mundy sighed, his shoulders sinking sadly. 

He went back straight to his van and spent the rest of his day off there, like a fox in his den. Time passed slowly, terribly so. It was torture to go through the day without his lover and Mundy found himself imagining what Lucien was doing in the enemy base, wherever it was. Did he start by unpacking his suits? Or did he just collapse on his bed and get sucked in the same daydream as Mundy was? 

Perhaps, he had decided to start by taking a shower, to clear his head, then unpack before organising his new home, getting to know it. Of course, Lucien would do all these things with a cigarette between his lips, carding his salt and pepper hair elegantly from time to time. Ah, his grey front lock would always fall on his forehead and between his eyes. He used to always complain about it, saying that he would cut it shorter. But Mundy would answer that his hair was perfect as it was, and he shouldn't cut it. 

Once, he even jokingly suggested that Lucien should tie it away in a ridiculous, very short ponytail at the front. And the Frenchman answered that he seriously was considering it. Of course it was nothing else but a joke, yet Mundy had taken his words and found a little rubber band. He took it to the Frenchman's suite and it had ended up in a game of cat and mouse where Mundy was chasing his lover to tie his hair. When he finally did catch him, he tied the grey front lock of hair and Lucien looked absolutely ridiculous. That day, he had even kept it for the entire evening and only removed it when he went to bed with Mundy. 

Ah, the nights would be lonely now. No Lucien to lie his head on Mundy's shoulder, no Lucien to stick his ice cold feet on Mundy's calves, just to bully him. And of course, no Lucien to warm Mundy's night and leave him panting and sweating… 

Mundy sighed. Such a shame that it had to end. Well, not exactly. They would still see each other at work. Although now, the dynamics between them completely flipped. They didn't work together but  _ against _ each other. And it was no problem for both of them. Their professionalism and their age meant that they did not mix their work with what they held in their hearts. 

Still, it would take some time to adjust to the new feeling of sleeping alone. Ha, the irony… Him who had slept alone all his life, with only the view of the star sprinkled sky as a companion, Mundy was now lacking company. He almost came to wonder how he used to live before Lucien brightened his days and nights. The van seemed lifeless, as if something vital was missing. 

"Yo, Snipes, dinner's ready!" Scout banged at the door with his legendary delicateness. 

"Right, comin'." 

Mundy put on his hat and glasses before exiting the van. He went to the kitchen and sat at the table, at his usual place. Opposite him was an empty seat. It used to be Lucien's. 

"Alright, fellows, here comes the soup for tonight." Engie announced as he put the - almost larger than him - pot on the table.

"Oh, man! Soup again?" Scout complained. "Please tell me there are no veggies in it at least?" 

"Sorry, pardner, but it's winter and there's no soup on Earth without any veggies. C'mon, gimme your plate…!"

Scout pulled his plate towards himself. 

"Scout…?" Engie insisted. 

"Nah it's fine, I'll eat somethin' else."

"Chocolate bars and soda ain't a diet, son. C'mon now…!"

"Listen, Private!" Soldier banged his fist on the table and all the plates and cutlery shook. "You will eat your rations or by God I will make you eat the empty plate!" Soldier tried to pry the plate off of Scout's hands.

"What?! No! Get away!"

Sniper sighed. That would definitely be when Lucien would say something witty to calm Scout and make him obey...

"Gentlemen." 

All the mercenaries raised their heads. 

"I do apologise for being late. Unpacking proved to be longer than what I had anticipated at first." The new Spy took a seat on the last free chair, opposite Sniper. 

Spy's entrance was enough of a distraction for Engie to take Scout's plate and serve him. The other plates were passed on, one after the other until all the mercenaries were served and started eating. 

The indistinguishable chatter rose in the room between Demo's hearty laughter, Heavy's stories in cold Siberia and Soldier's war tales. 

Sniper was staring emptily at his plate. The bits of vegetables floated lifelessly, half-drowning in the soup. He pushed them sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right. Like little shipwrecks, they bobbed up and down at the surface of the undisturbed ocean that the soup was. 

Obviously, his colleagues noticed but they knew of his relationship with Spy so they guessed why he felt distraught. Given how much the Aussie liked his privacy, they didn't bother him and eventually, he was left alone at the table. Heavy had been on dishes duty that night and he did not disturb his colleague either. After he was finished, he left the room and closed the door. 

But soon, Sniper heard it open again. It did not register completely as he was too absorbed in a day dream. 

"Yo, Snipes?" 

Scout's voice startled Sniper back to reality. 

"Huh?" 

"Sorry pal, Spy's askin' for ya."

Sniper frowned. No,  _ his  _ Spy wasn't asking for him. It was the other one. 

"What does he want?" He mumbled back. 

"Don't know. He said he needed some help with something and he knew you could do it." 

Sniper sighed and grumbled. He pushed his chair back and pushed himself on his feet heavily. 

"Right, I'll see what I can do for him…" He dragged his feet out of the kitchen and in the corridor. 

"Snipes, your soup?" He heard Scout ask but he ignored him as he now faced the door with the knife symbol, and gave a short knock. 

"Come in, Sniper." 

The Aussie frowned and pushed the door. He found Spy sitting on the armchair that used to be Lucien's. He was giving his back to Sniper.

"You need some help with something, Scout said." 

"Oui, pray close the door."

Sniper obeyed and gulped down hard. The last time his Spy asked him to make sure the door was locked was before they - ugh… It mattered little now. 

"So, what d'you need? If it's to move somethin' big, you can ask Heavy, he'll get it sorted faster than me."

"Non, it is for something different. Please, take a seat." 

"Spy, look, I'm not the small talk kind of guy, ok?" Sniper refused to sit and stood not too far from the door.

"Oh, I know." 

"Yeah, you do, you spend your time stabbing me in the back without sayin' a word." Sniper answered, irritated that his new colleague would make him waste his time. He would much prefer to lock himself up in his van and stay there. 

"I don't believe I have ever stabbed you." 

Sniper's eyebrows jumped and he fluttered his eyes under the audacity of what the snake of a man was saying.

"What?" Confused beyond what words could express, Sniper took a deep breath. "Look, y'know what, I'm not gonna answer. I'm gonna just do whatever you need and leave. Now, out with it."

"Sniper…" Spy chuckled and Sniper felt his blood boil. 

"Listen, either you tell me what you need or I'll just walk out of here, before I start throwing punches at you." 

"You never raised your hand on anyone." Spy answered with such calm… Sniper hated it. "Even when Scout mocks you, or gets on your nerves, you ignore him." 

Sniper raised an eyebrow. 

"What…? Y-you've been watchin' us in this base…?" 

"You never raised your hand or your voice against anyone." Spy went on. "You are way too soft for that." 

"Stop it. Right. Bloody. Now." Sniper was now angry. The familiarity with which the new Spy spoke to him disgusted him. He sounded almost like Lucien but he wasn't him. No, that bastard wasn't him. He wasn't him and how the hell dared he speak like him. 

"Or what? What will you do, hm? Run far away and shoot me in the head? Throw one of your precious jars at me? Pff, come on…!"

"I might start by rearrangin' your ugly mug, pop a few teeth with my fists, see how that goes, eh!" Sniper snapped, furious. 

"You used to find my face very comely. Countless times you have told me so." 

"Right, that's enough." Sniper took confident steps towards the Frenchman. He clenched his fist and threw it but Spy stood up and faced him, blocking his punch in his open palm. He twisted the Aussie's arm and brought him to his knees. 

"Oh you wanker!" 

"Only when you ask nicely."

"What?!" 

Spy removed his mask and his hair gently floated in the air for an instant.

"What the hell?!" 

Mundy felt his foe's grip loosen on his fist and his own knees went to jelly under the surprise.

" _ Bonsoir, mon amour."  _ The voice with the lovely smirk said.

_ [Good evening, my love.] _

"What are you doin' here?!" 

Lucien was standing in front of Mundy, a sweet smile on his lips. He helped him back to his feet.

"Am I…? Am I dreamin' or something? Hold on…" Mundy removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here? Why aren't you with the other team?!" 

Lucien chuckled and took his lover's hands to guide him and sit together on the sofa. 

"I never left this base!"

"What?"

"When I took the enemy Spy on a tour of this suite, I had a chat with him. Neither him or I wanted to swap teams. So we agreed to swap our clothes instead. I stay here and he goes back to his base." 

"Holy… Why didn't you say anything earlier, during dinner or something?" Mundy stretched his arm and wrist which hurt.

"Because no one knows about this but you, me, and the enemy Spy. There are cameras in the kitchen, living-room and corridors. I couldn't try anything suspicious there. Here however, we are safe, as you know." 

"Bloody hell…" Mundy shook his head. "But hold on, why did the enemy Spy accept?" 

"I think he has an arrangement with one of his teammates." 

"An arrangement?" Mundy repeated. "What? They're gonna open a lemonade stand on the weekends?" He chuckled. 

"Non, he is in a relationship with his Sniper." 

Mundy's chuckle stopped sharp and his eyebrows jumped. 

"Seriously?" 

"Oui." 

"Crikey, I had no idea…!"

Lucien chuckled. 

"Anythin' else like that that I don't know?" He asked. 

"Oh, plenty of things. But they matter very little. What matters now is that I am still here, with you." Lucien cupped his lover's face with his gloved hands and stroked his cheeks. Mundy relaxed and smiled. 

"So the bloke I escorted to the taxi and stuff wasn't you?" 

"Non, it was him." 

"Oh, right." Mundy stared at his lover with half-lidded eyes. "It really broke me inside when - oh, bugger!" He exclaimed in shock. 

"What?" Lucien asked. 

"Before the taxi drove off…!" 

"What happened?" 

"I told the enemy Spy I loved him! In French!" Mundy exclaimed with round eyes. "Bloody hell!" He smacked a hand on his own mouth and blushed beyond his ears. 

Lucien burst out laughing. 

"Well, I do hope that he didn't say that he loved you back!" 

"Oh… Bugger… Now he's gonna bully me even more at work…" Mundy lowered his head. 

"Non,  _ mon amour… _ " Lucien hugged him and pulled Mundy's head to rest on his shoulder. "I won't let him bully you, I promise. Besides, I doubt that he will." 

"Hope so." 

"I am sure of it. He is a good man. A less good spy, but a good man." Lucien said. "Now, please, look at me." He cupped Mundy's half ashamed, half distraught face. "You need something to soothe your nerves,  _ mon amour.  _ And to fill your stomach. Come along." Lucien took his hand and led Mundy to the kitchen attached to his suite. "Let us cook something for you." 

"Can we get pizza?" 

"Non, Mundy. Why get pizza when I can cook for you?" 

"Well…"

"Non! My cooking skills are godly, I will not tolerate that you should think otherwise!" Lucien said as he tied an apron around his waist and washed his hands. Mundy followed him left and right.

"I was gonna say it would save you the trouble, but ok…" Mundy chuckled. 

"What trouble? There is no trouble! My lover is hungry. It is my duty to remedy that." Lucien went to his fridge.

"Fair enough. Can I still hug you though?" 

"Oui, you may. But do not disturb me, understood?" Lucien emerged from the fridge and Mundy stuck himself to him, from behind. 

"Can I at least breathe?!" 

"I shall think about it and let you know." Lucien playfully answered as he grabbed a cutting board and a knife. Mundy rested his head on Lucien's shoulder, watching him cut vegetables and some meat. He liked it there, hugging his lover and spending time with him. Lucien would occasionally feed him a bit of carrot, or tomato. 

"Mundy?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Could you say that to me?" Lucien asked and he interrupted his chopping. 

"Say what?"

"That you love me, in French. You never did."

"Yeah _ ,  _ uh... _ Je t'aime, Lu'." _

Lucien bit his lip and rolled his head back to lean it on Mundy's shoulder. 

"Again…"

_ "Je t'aime."  _

He closed his eyes and smiled. Mundy hugged him tighter and left a kiss on his cheek. 

"Mundy?"

"Yeah?" 

"Your pronunciation is terrible." 

"Oi!"


	4. Hurt and Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /!\ Warning for an unwanted kiss!

"Gentlemen." 

Spy entered the kitchen and was greeted by his colleagues, sitting around the breakfast table. All acknowledged his entrance with a courteous nod, or a "good morning". All, but one who didn't move. 

Sniper took his coffee mug and exited the room, paying attention to go around the table and avoid contact with Spy. 

"He's still mad at ya?" Engie asked as Spy frowned. He had felt it like a dagger in his chest, Sniper's departure. And he knew it was no mere coincidence that he had decided to leave as Spy entered.

"It would seem so." Spy helped himself to some coffee and sat around the table at his place. The seat opposite him was empty. 

"What's wrong between you two? Maybe we can help?" Engie kindly offered. 

"Non, merci." Spy answered, slightly coldly, his eyes riveted on the empty chair in front of him. 

"Ha, what's it feel like bein' rejected, eh, fancypants?" Scout mocked and Spy put his fingers on the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes to contain his rage. 

"Uh, pardner, j-just finish your cereals, right? I can try and order more soda for you after?" Engie tried to calm the storm that he felt incoming. 

"Nah, Engie, c'mon! Not everyday the stuck up Frenchie gets rejected. I wanna know what he feels like!" Scout went on. 

The chatter around the table ended and all the eyes were now on Spy. Spoons and toasts were hanging in the air. The mercenaries knew that Spy wasn't the type to answer Scout's provocations. They expected him to sigh and take another sip of his coffee. 

Instead, he lit a cigarette and started smoking.

"C'mon, Spy! Tell us! And you still got that black eye from your fight with the enemy Snipes, eh?" 

Spy sucked on his cigarette and the smoke burnt his nose and his airway all the way down to his very lungs. It stung him and managed to absorb the boiling rage within him. 

"Scout, please…" Engie insisted. 

"Nah, today, he's gonna feel like one of us. Maybe that's gonna teach him not to be a pretentious piece of crap! See what you feel, Spy? That's how low I felt when I wedged my head through your door to ask you for help with Miss Pauling!" 

Spy finished gulping down his coffee and stood up. He headed for the door. 

"Ha! That's it! Now go away and cry in your fancy mask or something!" 

"Scout." Spy's voice split the room. "You want to know how I feel?" He asked, facing the door and giving his back to his colleagues at the table. 

"Y-yeah?" Scout started to be scared. He hadn't expected Spy to answer his insults. 

"I feel the same way as your father did when your mother decided to leave him." Spy answered and left his colleagues agape as he went out of the room. The noise of the door shutting made all the mercenaries uncomfortable. Their eyes went to Scout. 

"Bullshit! Ma' didn't leave my Dad! It's him who left!"

His colleagues' shoulders sank. Scout's being oblivious was a gift for himself, even if he was oblivious to that too.

Outside of the base, Spy had knocked at the Aussie's door, on his campervan. 

"Piss off." 

"Non." 

"Piss off, or I'll pop your head off." 

"Non." 

Sniper sighed. 

"You can stay there all day if you want, I won't open." 

" _ D'accord." _

_ [Alright.] _

It was Saturday and the mercenaries could enjoy their weekend. Sniper tidied up his van, and kept himself busy, as best as he could. He knew that, stubborn as he was, Spy would indeed stay there, all day if necessary. 

And he did. Smoking cigarette after cigarette, comitting a genocide in his metallic cigarette case. His eyes became red before the sunset sky did. He knew it was all a misunderstanding. He knew it was all useless. But what remained true is that Sniper had seen him, at the end of day's match, the day before. 

As the Administrator announced the end of the round, Sniper was looking for his colleague. Well,  _ colleague… _ It seemed cold to use that word now. They were more than that, oh so much more. 

After waiting for Spy to show up unsuccessfully, the Aussie started looking for him, going through the battlefield and calling him out. When he found him, his heart sank. 

Spy was being pinned against the wall by the enemy Sniper and receiving attentions that left no doubt as to what was going on...

"Spy…?" 

The enemy Sniper stepped away from Spy and their lips disconnected.

"You can get'im back, yeah, sorry I've been a bit long with him." 

Sniper's jaw had dropped. He had frowned and went back to the base, Spy running after him and shouting for him. The Aussie ignored him and locked himself up in his van, only to reappear the next morning for breakfast…

Spy sighed as he crushed his billionth cigarette butt. He was sitting on the step at the van's back and watched the lights switch on through the base's windows, as the sun sank below the horizon. He could see the shadows of his colleagues through the curtained windows and he stared. 

It was a misunderstanding. He never had wanted to kiss the enemy Sniper. They had been fighting until the very end, hence his black eye. As the Administrator's  _ melodious _ voice blasted through the speakers, the enemy Sniper knew that if he sliced Spy up, he would die and not respawn, which of course prevented him from doing that. 

Instead, he chose to humiliate him and make him understand that _ he _ had won this encounter, even if he hadn't killed him. He had Spy pinned from his throat and the Frenchman could feel something pressing menacingly against his crotch. 

"Will you let me go? The match has ended, in case you were deaf." He said between clenched teeth and struggling to get some air. 

"Not yet, mate, gotta make you get who won this time." 

"I get it. You did. Now let me go-oh?!"

And on these words, the enemy Sniper pushed his lips against Spy who tried to kick him but the kukri pressed harder and he genuinely feared for his life. No respawn would fix him if he pushed his foe too hard. And he hated it. The enemy Sniper was a man that he respected as an enemy until then. Humiliation of that kind was something that Spy didn't think his enemy was capable of.

"Spy…?" 

His teammate Sniper's voice put an end to that filthy and unwanted kiss. When the enemy Sniper finally let go of him - not without snickering - Spy spat out and away. He took a handkerchief to wipe his mouth and ran after his friend. 

His  _ friend. _ Sniper was so much more than a friend.

"Hm." 

The door opened and Spy jumped to his feet. 

"Sniper?"

The Aussie ignored him and went to the base with his bag of dirty clothes in his hand as if he hadn't seen Spy standing there. The Frenchman's shoulders sank sadly. About an hour later, he came back. 

"Sniper, please?" 

The Aussie put his wet clothes on the line between his van and the base and slipped back inside his narrow dwelling. He didn't say a word, nor did he even look at Spy...

In the end, Spy had stayed there the entire day, smoking like a train, or like  _ a fireman _ , as they say in French. He stayed as the sun rose to its zenith, he stayed under the scorching afternoon sun, he stayed when the sun went down and under the horizon line. He only stood up once to throw all his cigarette butts in the outside bin of the base. He took advantage of his being standing up to stretch his legs and back before sitting back down. 

" _ Merde… _ " Spy cursed, as he realised his cigarette case was empty. He put it back in his pocket and sighed. 

[Shit]

It was ridiculous and had lasted long enough. 

"Sniper, if you don't open that door, I will pick the lock!"

"Piss off." The muffled voice answered. 

"Fine." Spy opened his cigarette case and took the pins concealed inside. He slid them in the lock and started twisting them until he heard a satisfactory click. He pulled the door and entered. 

Sniper was unfazed, lying on his bed, watching the stars through the ceiling window. 

"I need to explain everything to you." Spy said as he put his pins back where they belonged and he shut the door. "I did not exchange a kiss with the enemy Sniper." 

Sniper seemed as though he wasn't listening at all. 

"I did not want to kiss him." Spy raised his head. Sniper being unresponsive got on his nerves. He hadn't eaten all day to say all these things and the other one didn't even dare lend an ear? "Are you even listening?!" 

"No."

"Why?" 

"I know what I saw. You're with him now, go away." 

"Non, I am not and non, I will not."

"Don't keep him waitin'. 's rude." 

"Sniper…"

"Nah, it's fine. Guess I was the idiot. I trusted you and all. But it's fine, no biggie. Just go and leave me alone." 

"Non. I will not leave this van until you listen to me properly." 

"Wastin' your time." He answered.

"Talk about a waste of time when you did not spend the entire day at your door smoking! I skipped lunch and melted under the afternoon sun for a chance to speak to you! I will not leave before I do so!" 

Sniper sighed and sat up on his bed, finally looking at Spy. He came down from his bed and towered Spy. 

"I skipped lunch too. I was locked up here cause of you watchin' and listenin' to my moves all day long. Even for my laundry I had to wait. Bloody ridiculous. So now, if you don't mind, I'd like to sleep in peace." 

"He forced me!" Spy exclaimed. "He had a hand on my throat and a blade between my legs! It even started to rip the silk! Look!" Spy parted his legs slightly to show where the textile had been cut. "All that  _ after _ the end of the match. He was  _ this close _ to killing me for good!"

"I knew you liked it rough but eh, whatever."

"Sniper!"

"Right. So he held a knife at your pants and you fell for him and kissed him. Ok, got it. Now, why on Earth are you still here?" 

"You don't get it, you idiot!"

"Oh I think I do. He showed you who's boss, you liked it and boom. I think that sums it up, mate." 

Spy frowned. 

"He  _ humiliated me. _ "

"Some folks like it that way."

"You know very well I do  _ not."  _ Spy answered, his teeth clenched. He sighed. "He forced his lips on me as a way to  _ 'show me who is the boss'  _ indeed, but not in a sexual way, as you are implying it. Non. He would have sliced through me, had the Administrator not called the end of the match. He did that obscene thing to show that he won, to humiliate me. I am grateful no one else saw this."

"Yeah, well, I did."

"And I thank you in part."

"What?!"

"I thank you because God knows what more he would have done if you hadn't intervened! Maybe he would have stayed on my lips in front of his colleagues too? Who knows! I was dying of shame!" Lucien exclaimed. "When he freed me, I spat out his filth and ran after you. But it was too late. Your mind had already processed everything…" He hid his face in his hands. 

"Has he ever done that to you before?" Sniper asked. 

"Non, I swear…! And I would never enjoy that!" Lucien turned his back to Mundy and wrapped his arms around himself. "I don't know what took him today to do that to me. Beyond the disgust, it surprised me from someone who is usually as calm, almost taciturn, as him."

"That's… disgustin'." Lucien turned to face his lover. "We gotta tell the Admin, let her fire him and get him replaced." Sniper said.

"Non, Mundy, please!"

"No!" Sniper exclaimed. "He forced you into something that's not on the contract and not right. Ok, it was just a kiss for show but… Hold on," Sniper closed the gap between them and held Spy's head between his palms, inspecting him. "He didn't put his tongue in, did he? Bugger, I'll make his bloody skull pop in goddamn confetti…! C'mere, Lu'..." 

Sniper wrapped his arms around Spy and kept him close in a dear embrace. 

"I'm sorry, luv'." Lucien removed his mask and Mundy slid his fingers in his hair to comfort him.

"So am I." Lucien answered, burying his head deeper in Sniper's chest. "I am terribly sorry, disgusted and distraught."

"I'm sorry I just saw you and him together and I assumed you just… Ugh, doesn't matter." Sniper tightened his hug. "I'm with you now, and you're safe." 

"Thank you… So much…" Lucien clawed in his lover. 

"It's fine, it's ok, we're gon-"

A knock at the door interrupted them. 

"Wear your mask, luv'." Spy smiled at the sweet name. Sniper handed it to him and stood between the door and his lover. Spy slipped it on quickly. "You ready?"

"Oui, merci."

[Yes, thanks.]

Sniper opened the door. No one. 

"Hey there, pardner."

"Oh?" Sniper's eyes went down and he saw his Texan colleague. "Hey, mate."

"Sorry to bother you. We received a message from the Admin. She said we're on a cease-fire for a week." Engineer explained. "It got announced during dinner but you and Spy weren't here. By the way, do you know where he is? I knocked at his door but he didn't answer." 

"I am here." Spy emerged from the shadows and went by Sniper's side. "Did she explain why this sudden decision?"

"Apparently, it's got to do with replacin' someone who didn't play by their contract on the opposite team." Engie answered.

Sniper and Spy exchanged a glance. 

"I see. Thank you, labourer."

"No problem. Have a nice evenin', fellas." The Texan went away and Sniper shut the door of his van. 

"So, turns out we didn't even have to do anythin', eh." 

"Oui, it seems so."

Both sat on the small couch. 

"Lu'...?"

"Oui?"

Mundy took Lucien's hand in both of his and removed the glove before caressing it gently.

"I'm sorry for what happened. If you wanna, y'know, talk about it or…"

Lucien chuckled.

"I am more affected by the consequences it had on us than the actual act itself. A kiss from someone is rarely a bad experience. But this wasn't a kiss. It was a show of animalistic dominance urged by a will to humiliate me. Bah, I have seen my fair share and will manage to sleep at night. Non, the issue is that you took it the wrong way and you thought that my feelings for you were not sincere." 

"Sorry about it…"

"It is fine. The main thing is that you now know and understand what happened. I care very little about the rest." Lucien answered and leaned his head on Mundy's shoulder. 

They laced their fingers together and stayed there for a while. The van was narrow, but it made it cosy. Mundy's voice broke the periodic sound of their breaths. 

"Lu'?"

"Oui?" 

"So uh… You still love me, right?" 

Lucien smiled and raised his head to his lover. 

"Of course I do. I love you more than any man before." 

"You sure?"

"Oui."

"There wasn't any part of you that… Y'know… Kinda liked it with the other Sniper?" 

Lucien chuckled. 

"Absolutely not. If anything, I lost all respect for him. It is a good thing that he got fired." 

"Yeah…"

"Mundy?"

"Mh?"

"I love you."

Mundy smiled and pulled Lucien to him. 

"I love you too. And I missed you." 

They hugged as if they hadn't seen each other for years. 

"I missed you too." Lucien answered. "I missed you and you-"

The noise of Mundy's stomach growling cut Lucien's sentence sharp. 

"S-sorry. I haven't eaten a thing." 

"Neither have I. Come, we will prepare some dinner." 

Lucien stood up and was about to slip his mask on when Mundy got to his feet in a flash and held his wrist away. He dived straight for the Frenchman's lips and pulled his waist strongly. 

"I love you, Lu'."

"Mh… So do I. Now, let us go before your stomach screams again, hm?" 

"Right. But please cook somethin' edible this time."

Lucien slipped on the mask and his eyes snapped wide.

" _ Pardon?! _ " He asked in his mother tongue. "When have I ever cooked something that wasn't?" 

Mundy grabbed his hat and both exited the van. 

"Remember the snails?" He went on teasing his lover. 

"They were exquisite. Your palate was just not ready for such refinement." 

" _ My palate wasn't ready?!  _ What kind of nonsense is that?! You just cooked bloody snails as if we had nothing else to eat!"

"I beg to differ, Mundy! Not only did we have other things to eat but it is a delicacy!" 

They entered the base and crossed the corridor still bickering. From the living room, some of the other mercs heard them. 

"Guess Spy and Sniper made it up, huh?" Engie said and Pyro clapped his hands enthusiastically. 

"Aye, seems like it, lad." Demo added before taking a swig of his scrumpy. 

Scout raised a curious eyebrow. He wanted to see it for himself. So without adding a word, he rose from the sofa and peeked through the door. 

"Ew!" He jumped back in the living room and resumed his seat on the sofa. 

"What is it, son?" Engie asked. 

"Go and see for yourself, ew!" 

Engie frowned and went to peek through the door. He smiled and tried to make his chuckle as silent as possible. From there, he could see in the dark corridor a man in a suit pressed against a door by a man taller than him and wearing a hat. Their shadows were one.


	5. Alternate Universe - Lucien, the Parisian baker

"Micky, please tell your mum I'm starvin'."

"Mum, Dad's starvin'." Mundy's head swung from left to right.

"Micky, tell your Dad that I'm done with this cathedral now and we can get some lunch."

Both father and son cheered as they exited the impressive Cathédrale Montmartre. 

It had been a few days now that the Turner family had travelled from their native Australia to Paris, France. After years of saving, the farmers and the hunter managed to gather the amount they needed to take some very well earned holidays and see a part of the world that Caroline, the mother, had always dreamt of visiting. 

And it was Mundy, the son, now close to forty years old, who had suggested the idea of the trip. In his line of work, travelling was usual and he had seen a few places, and a lot of species already. He knew that his mother had always dreamt of seeing the City of Lights and so, he pushed for the idea to become a reality. 

At first his parents thought it was way out of what they could afford not only financially, but physically. They were getting close to their seventies! But Mundy insisted and told the tale of a lot of his patrons who were that age and older, yet still roaming the world. 

Caroline and Mike, mother and father, eventually accepted the idea, and Mundy worked extra shifts in pubs, playing the saxophone in some bands here and there, to add a few notes in the piggy bank. 

There they were now, the three of them, in the capital of romance. The cathedral they had just visited was on the top of a hill from which they could see the entire city of Paris splayed out and spread in  _ le Bassin Parisien,  _ the valley in which the capital was planted. It was easy to distinguish the business district with its towers of black and blue-ish glass, from the more residential or commercial areas. The Eiffel tower obviously pointed to the sky further away. 

Mundy had turned out to be the official photographer for the trip. He just enjoyed seeing the delight on his parents' faces and took pictures of them doing absolutely anything. They had never travelled much and he wanted them to have physical memories of it. On some pictures, they were pointing at a monument, on these ones, they were trying to decipher the names of the streets with a map wide open under their eyes, or just sitting on a bench and enjoying a cone of ice cream. Yes, it was July and peak summer in France, which was quite a surprise for the Aussies, but a welcome one. They all preferred hot and sunny weather, and were used to it.

"Let's try this bakery maybe?"

Caroline pointed at a reasonably small shop. The front of it was Burgundy red with the name shining in golden letters. 

_ "Chez Lucien" _ . 

[Lucien's.]

Mundy pushed the door and let his parents through. The jingle of a bell rang and immediately after, a wave of delicious smells washed their lungs and made their mouths water even more. 

_ "Bonjour."  _ The baker greeted them. " _ Que puis-je faire pour vous?" _

_ [What can I do for you?] _

" _ Bonjour _ ." Mundy tried his best accent. "Do you speak English?" 

"Oui, I do." The Turner family sighed in relief. They were now used to communicating in sign language but finding someone who could understand even a bit of English was just their luck. "How may I help you?" The baker answered with more than a hint of a French accent. 

"Just give us a second, son. I mean look at all these good things, the smell's amazin'!" Mike said, his eyes running through the sandwiches, the quiches and pastries. 

" _ Merci. _ Will it be to eat here?”

“Yeah, think so.” Mike answered.

“In that case, you may make yourselves comfortable at a table.” The baker suggested.

Mundy noticed there were only two tables inside and one on the pavement. They relieved themselves of their backpacks and came back in front of the glass. 

“Do take your time and don't hesitate to ask me if you need me to explain anything." 

"Thanks, mate." Mundy answered.

Caroline held Mike's arm dearly as they chatted and pointed at sandwiches here and there behind the glass. Mundy gave them a bit of space and had a look at the desserts. 

The colours beckoned his eyes. Red strawberries, all the shades of brown chocolate, white sugar, green pistachio, orange apricot tarts, yellow lemon ones. And the textures looked very different too. Mundy wished he could try a few. 

And what a powerful yet pleasant mix of smells. The smell of hot flour was drowning Mundy entirely. As he raised his eyes and looked behind the baker, bread of different shapes, sizes and colours were neatly arranged in wicker baskets. It was impressive. 

"What's this one, son?" Mike asked, pointing at a sandwich. 

"This has goat cheese, salad, and a drop of mustard with honey." The man in the white apron answered, and Mike and Caroline nodded. "Do you have any dietary requirements maybe? That might help you make the choice easier."

"Mike here has to watch out for sugar and cholesterol." Caroline said.

"Bah, I'm fine." Mike answered. 

"Mike, the doctor said to watch out…! Micky, tell your Dad…!"

"Dad…" Mundy started. 

"C'mon son, don't side with your mum! Men's solidarity!" 

The baker smiled. 

"I can recommend a classic French one, if you want a full French experience." He suggested. 

"Sure!" Mike answered. "We haven't come all the way from home to stop at sugar and cholesterol!" 

"In that case, I would suggest the classic  _ jambon-beurre." _

"John what?" Mike repeated. 

" _ Jambon-beurre."  _ The baker said. "Ham and butter. Now, I can make one with a light butter and lean ham for you." 

"That sounds great, what d'you say Caroline?" Mike looked at his wife. "Can I get that?" 

"My father himself used to have those when his diet became more strict." The baker explained.

"Oh that's very kind of you." Caroline said. "Sure, go for that. I will have the goat cheese and honey one, I never tried that combination of flavours."

"Very well." 

Mundy had been watching the whole scene unravel before his eyes and was grinning. He was over the moon to see his parents so relaxed and enjoying their time. They had worked hard all their lives to provide for their only son and had rarely taken a holiday as significant as this. 

"And you, Micky?" 

"Huh?" 

Caroline's voice had broken her son's daydream. 

"Oh, uh, I'll get the ham and butter, the normal kind is fine for me." 

"Very well, give me an instant." The baker gathered his ingredients and a bread knife. He prepared the sandwich in front of his hungry clients as they watched him. 

Mundy found himself staring. The baker was a bit shorter than him by half a foot or so. He looked a bit older too. His temples were grey and his front tuft, which swung between his eyes as he cut the bread, was greying too. However, his eyes shone with a kind of vivacity, of life, that Mundy found made him younger than himself maybe. He had very light blue eyes with dark eyelashes - beautiful - a slightly hooked nose and thin lips. His hands were trained and used to his work as his efficiency showed, but Mundy guessed that he hadn't been a baker all his life. His fingers were too slim to have done manual work all their lives like his parents'. 

"I guess you are visiting France for the first time?" 

"Yeah, first time out of home since a long time, son." Mike answered.

"Where are you from, if I may?" 

"Australia." 

"Ooh, that is indeed a long way from home." The baker chuckled and Mundy saw a flash of his pearly white teeth. 

"Yeah, the wife's always wanted to come and see it here, y'know, with it bein' the city of romance and all…" Mike explained and he held his wife's hand dearly.

"But of course." The baker placed the sandwiches on a tray. "Will that be all for you today?" 

"Micky, ask your mum if we can get desserts." 

"You could ask me directly." Caroline answered. 

"Yeah but you'd say no to me, honey." 

Caroline rolled her eyes and smiled. 

"Fine, let us have a look at what you have, uh…?" Caroline adjusted her glasses, looking for a badge or anything to address the shop owner. His name was sewn on his apron, in black, cursive letters. "Lu…?"

"Lucien." 

"Ooh, original name. Sounds very French, beautiful!" Caroline said. 

"Thank you,  _ Madame."  _ Lucien bowed his head politely. "May I suggest the strawberry tart for  _ Monsieur? _ It is mostly fruity and the dough has very little sugar. My most faithful customers do like it particularly." 

"Yeah, looks very good." Mike said enthusiastically. 

"I'll have one of these, uh…" Caroline pointed at the glass. 

"Oh,  _ éclair au chocolat. _ Do you know what  _ éclair _ means in French?" Lucien asked. 

"No?"

"It is a lightning bolt. As a child, my mother used to make me believe that they were called that way because of how fast I devoured them." 

"Ooh, that is sweet…!"

Lucien put the mini tart and the éclair on the tray.

"And for you,  _ Monsieur?"  _ He turned to Mundy, who blushed under the piercing gaze. 

"Oh, uh, I mean… Maybe one of these…?" 

" _ Cannelé _ , they are called, because of their shape. They are typical from the South-West of France, where I come from. Have you ever tried them?"

"No, why?" 

Lucien smiled. 

"They are rarely a tourist's choice." He simply answered. "Here for you. I recommend enjoying those desserts with some coffee. Pray take a seat, I shall bring you your tray."

"Oh, thank you, dear." Caroline said and the Turner family sat around the table. Lucien closely followed. He added a jug of fresh water and glasses.

"Enjoy your meal, or as we say here,  _ bon appétit."  _ Lucien bowed his head and left his customers to enjoy their meal.

"Mum? Dad?" Mundy was holding the camera and took a picture when they both bit in their sandwiches. "There we go." 

The Turners enjoyed their sandwiches and the fresh water. After all, it was summer and it was hot. Caroline reminded Mike to take his pills as usual and Mundy was sitting next to them. He loved his parents more than anything or anyone else and in truth, they were all he had. He had a few friends back in Oz, not a lot, but good ones. 

" _ Son?"  _ Mike's whisper pulled Mundy out of his daydream. 

"Hm?"

" _ Can you please tell your mum to stop starin' at the baker like that." _

_ "If I was a few decades younger…"  _ Caroline whispered. 

_ "Yeah, well, if you were a few decades younger, you'd remember that ring on your finger maybe, eh?"  _ Mike teased. 

"Mum, please… You're makin' it obvious…" Mundy nudged his mother's elbow gently. 

Lucien was behind the counter, leaning on the wall on his side and reading a newspaper. 

" _ C'mon, Micky, tell your Dad that he's handsome!"  _ Caroline nudged her son back.

"Mum…!" He blushed.

" _ Yeah well, go and have sandwiches with him, then!"  _ Mike answered. 

" _ Oh I would!" _

_ "Caroline!" _

_ "Mike!" _

"Mum, Dad, please…!"

" _ Nah, son, I've seen her stare at enough guys here. Since the moment we landed here and now, her eyes jumped from bloke to bloke like a bee from flower to flower!" _

_ "Not my fault that they all look so charming! And I didn't say anything when you stared at that young sheila in the short skirt in the cathedral…!" _

"Well…" Mike blushed, ashamed. "I'm a simple man…!"

_ "Besides, I'm not the only one who's starin', Mike."  _

"Hm?" 

Caroline nodded in direction of Mundy, for whom the whispers of his parents had dissolved in the air. He had eyes and ears only for that baker. God, his mother was right, he was handsome! 

Caroline was right on that people there in France were quite good looking and it made the journey all the more pleasant to the eye. 

"Micky?" Mike's voice pulled Mundy out of his staring. 

"Huh?" 

"Well, I can't tell you to stop cause you got a ring on your finger but uh…  _ make it a bit more, y'know, discreet…?" _

Mundy blushed beyond his ears and lowered his head. 

And that was the first encounter with Lucien, the baker. From that day on, the Turners would try to have their lunch there everyday. Caroline was the one to push for it. Not only did Lucien turn out to be an incredible guide for them, recommending good and inexpensive restaurants as well as little corners of paradise within Paris, but she could see the blush on Mundy's cheeks whenever Lucien talked to him. 

In the evenings, Mundy would take a stroll outside, to give his parents some space. He would walk in the streets of the city, under the lamp posts, letting his feet decide where he should go. More often than once, he found himself not far from the bakery. On one occasion, Lucien was smoking outside of his bakery, as the sky was still bright. Mundy was paralysed with fear. He wasn't supposed to be standing there! He was supposed to be in his shop, and then Mundy could casually look through the window as he passed it, maybe even wave if he made eye contact with him. Yeah, that all made sense, but not Lucien being outside and-!

" _ Bonsoir, Mundy,  _ wasn't it? _ "  _

_ [Good evening] _

Mundy's blood froze. As he was panicking internally, his feet had continued walking until he was within a few feet from the baker. 

"Y-yeah, hi." 

"Do you smoke?" Lucien asked. 

"Yeah, I mean, sometimes." 

"Here." Lucien offered one of his cigarettes and Mundy accepted it. 

"Thanks, mate." 

"Come closer." 

Mundy blushed when Lucien closed the gap between them and lit his cigarette up. He closed his eyes and all he could feel was the smell of the Frenchman's cologne, mixed with pastries and fresh bread.

_ Gosh… _ He thought as he felt his insides melt. 

_ "Voilà." _ Lucien chimed as he put his lighter away. Mundy opened his eyes and he felt as if he had emerged from a dream to another one. Now, the ice blue eyes of the elegant man were on him. 

"Y-yeah, thanks, heh." 

"You like to walk at night?" Lucien asked as they both exhaled the bitter smoke.

"Yeah, it's nice and calm."

"And I guess it is your break from your photography duties?" The Frenchman chuckled. 

"What?"

"You are the one carrying the camera all the time, and taking pictures of your parents. Do you have any of you?" 

"Uh, yeah, we do have a few of all three of us together."

"I would be delighted to take more in my shop next time you have lunch here."

"Ah, thanks." 

They stayed in front of the shop and smoked in silence, watching the few people in the streets come and go. 

"Mundy?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I will soon close the shop. Would you like anything?" 

"Oh, uh, no, I'm fine, thanks." 

"Very well." Lucien put the cigarette between his lips and entered the bakery. Mundy wasn't sure he could or should follow him so he stayed on the threshold. He watched as Lucien disappeared through a door behind the counter. Soon after, the lights switched off in the shop and Lucien emerged. Mundy couldn't see him clearly in the dark but his silhouette stood out. 

"Very well. This is it for today." He said as he came out and locked the shop. "I could do with some good coffee, would you like to join me, perhaps? I know a quiet café." Lucien turned to Mundy who was staring at him. "Mundy?".

He had never seen the baker outside of his natural habitat and a bit like a schoolboy who couldn't imagine his teacher living outside of school, Mundy was taken aback. It turned out that underneath the apron was a white polo shirt and now a beige linen jacket, with a matching hat and trousers. 

"U-uh? Yeah? Sorry, you said somethin'?"

"You daydream a lot, hm?" Lucien chuckled.

"Sorry…" Mundy looked away and felt the heat of the embarrassment on his cheeks. 

"It is alright, I do like to daydream too." He smiled as Mundy raised his eyes to him and the Aussie immediately averted his eyes. Oof, that grin…! "But you haven't answered my invitation."

"Y-your invitation?"

"Oui, coffee, with me?"

"You sure? I mean, I guess you're tired after work and maybe you want to go back home to your family or see your mates…?"

"I don't have one or the other." Mundy's eyebrows jumped. "You and your parents are the closest I have got to having friends for a long time. So, what do you say?  _ Un café avec moi?" _

_ [A coffee with me?] _

"Oh, uh, alright. I mean uh,  _ oui?"  _

Lucien smiled. 

_ "Très bien,  _ follow me."

[ _ Very well] _

The Frenchman led the way through the streets.

"So you left  _ Maman  _ and  _ Papa _ at the hotel?" 

"Uh, yeah. I try to give them some space. Mum's always dreamt to come here with Dad."

"Not with you?" Lucien asked.

"No, I didn't want it to sound so bad… I mean that she'd wanted to come here even before they found me."

"They…  _ found you?" _ Lucien repeated as they took a turn. 

"Oh Gosh, I can't keep my mouth shut…" Mundy mumbled to himself. "Sorry, mate, I-I meant… Ugh… Nevermind." 

Lucien didn't insist. 

"Here is the café." He pulled the front door and held it open for his tourist friend. 

"Oh, thanks." 

And it lasted for a couple of weeks, the nights out, sometimes in a café, sometimes just a tour of a neighbourhood with an incredibly patient and passionate guide. 

"You like Paris quite a bit, eh?" Mundy asked under the dark blue sky lit by the Eiffel Tower. Lucien had taken him to the  _ Champs de Mars _ , an open park just in front of the beautifully lit, iconic tower. They were both sitting on the grass.

"Believe it or not, I do not like it much."

"Really?"

"Oui."

"You know it well though, historical stuff and all."

There was a slight smile on the Frenchman's lips. 

"Oui, unfortunately so, for some part of it. Non, what I have come to appreciate about this city recently is how  _ you _ like it."

"What?" Mundy asked, embarrassed and confused. Lucien chuckled. 

"You enjoy visiting Paris."

"Well, there's a lot of monuments to see, lots of history behind it, and it's a proper city. The Outback's very different."

"Tell me about it." 

They exchanged a glance and Mundy's throat tightened. He could see all the lights on the Eiffel Tower shimmer on the Frenchman's eyes, like stars in a clear blue sky. 

"Well… Uh…" Mundy looked left and right. "See everythin' around us?"

"Oui?"

"Imagine there's nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yeah, and imagine there's no grass but just orange dust."

"Hm…" Lucien looked keenly around him.

"Now add a few cacti, not too many, eh? And boulders. Just big rocks, basically."

"What shapes are they?" 

"Any weird shape you can imagine. They're a bit like clouds, if you stare at them, you start seeing that they look like stuff but they don't really…"

"Oh… And what shapes have you seen?" 

Mundy looked at Lucien sitting next to him. He had removed his hat and jacket. His polo shirt was white with dark blue stripes and he wore matching dark blue chinos trousers with beige loafers. Elegant, he was just so elegant…! What's more, he was lying on his side on the grass, resting part of his weight on his forearm, with one leg folded. Gosh…

"Uh… I usually see animals."

"What kind?"

"Sometimes, it's a gigantic wallaby, or a koala. But sometimes, it's stuff that doesn't even exist."

"Hm, like what?" 

_ Like you,  _ Mundy thought. No one had taken the time to go out with him, take the time to know him, go to cafés and odd little bistrots with him. No one had ever listened to his life in the Outback, no one had ever asked. And certainly, no one had done all that and looked half as gorgeous as Lucien. It was to the point where Mundy struggled to maintain eye contact with him for long. He would sometimes cross Lucien's eyes and avert his gaze the split second after. His feline, light blue irises were too much to take, especially because each time Lucien graced him with a gaze, Mundy could feel a punch to his guts and the blood rush to his cheeks.

"I-I don't know, it's a bit silly…" He answered, blushing and looking down between his crossed legs. 

"Mundy…" 

He froze when he felt a finger under his chin, pulling it up. 

"Huh?" 

"Please, tell me." 

Gosh, not those eyes…! Oh and fuck it… Mundy couldn't refuse or ignore anything to those ice blue irises.

"Sometimes it's a mix of animals… Like something with the head of an owl, the body of a falcon, but legs like a wild cat. I know, it's ridiculous, ahem…"

"Non, not at all." Lucien answered and maybe it was all in Mundy's head, but he felt the Frenchman's index linger on his chin a bit before parting. The Aussie's jaw was electrified. "I find it poetic." 

"D-do you?" Mundy's surprise was so obvious, so naive that it made Lucien grin sweetly. The Aussie uncrossed his legs and let them flow in front of him.

"Oui." Lucien laid down and rested his head on Mundy's thigh. 

"Huh-?" Mundy gasped.

"Oh, am I weighing too much on you?"

"N-no, it's fine. I'm just-I'm just surprised, is all." The truth was that Mundy felt the heat in him surge as unexpectedly as Lucien lay on him. Was he just tired of holding his head on his palm? Was it friendly? Was it  _ more _ ? Was it a French thing?

"Hm. Look around you." Lucien said and Mundy did as he was told. It was the dead of night and not many people were out. "The city is almost empty. The Paris of the night is waking up and claiming the streets now." 

"The Paris of the night?" Mundy repeated. 

"Oui, people who shun the naked light of day because society shunned them first. Those are people whom morality and customs do not understand yet, people who are too free."

"What d'you mean?" 

"Look at the pavement there." Lucien pointed and Mundy saw a few women wearing short skirts. 

"Yeah?" 

"Do you see these women?" 

"Yeah."

"They are not women."

"What?" 

"They are not women in what is most commonly accepted as the definition for it. They need the cover of the night to exist as they want to. I find it tragic yet strongly inspiring." Lucien went on. "They need the blanket of the dark night sky to wear the dresses, skirts and make-up that they want. We are not too different from them, you and me."

"How? You wanna wear a dress now?" Mundy joked and Lucien chuckled, his head still using the Aussie's thigh as a pillow. 

"Non, we too are taking advantage of the night to be what the light of day prevents us from being."

Mundy's heart pounded in his chest. He was afraid he was understanding what Lucien meant, or maybe he wasn't at all and he was just hearing what the thin voice at the back of his head was whispering. 

"Huh?" 

"May I?" 

Mundy sweated. Lucien had taken his fingers in his. 

"Y-yeah, I think." 

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to force you - oh?" Lucien's eyebrows jumped and he then relaxed when Mundy pushed his trembling fingers shyly between his. Lucien held on to his hand dearly. "Mundy?" 

"Mh?" The Aussie was screwing his eyes shut hard and was trying to calm his pounding heart and the rush of blood through his body. 

" _ Merci."  _

_ [Thank you.] _

His eyes snapped wide. 

"What?" 

"I said thank you."

"For what?" 

"Everything." 

And that night, they stayed on the  _ Champs de Mars _ all the way up until the sun showed its first rays of light. At that point, they were both lying on their backs. The wide lawn was their mattress and the early hours of the new day captured the murmurs of what no one else but them should know.

It lasted for weeks, enough to make a habit out of it and to make Mundy think that it could last forever. Unfortunately enough, the holidays were coming to an end and Australia was calling the Turners back. 

"You're not going out tonight? You should take a walk, Micky." 

In their hotel room, Caroline and Mike were talking to Mundy. 

"Your Mum's right, son. You could do with some fresh air."

"We spent our day outside. I'm tired."

Mike and Caroline exchanged a glance and went to the bathroom. 

" _ I'm tellin' you, Mike, we have to push him out."  _ She whispered to her husband.  _ "He's as sad he could be." _

_ "Yeah, I know, I know… But you're absolutely sure it will do him good?" _

_ "Mike, I'm a sheila. We feel those things. Look at him…"  _

Caroline held the bathroom door ajar and Mike peeked through the slim opening. 

_ "Doesn't he remind you of someone?" _ She asked. 

_ "Hm. Yeah, course he does. Look at him lyin' on his bed, starin' at the ceiling. His body is here, his heart is elsewhere. He's exactly like me when I first met you, honey."  _ Mike sighed.  _ "Right, I'll get him out of this room. But you gotta help me."  _

_ "Ok, what's the plan?"  _ Caroline asked excitedly. 

_ "Follow me. _ "

Mike took his wife by the hand and they exited the bathroom.

"Uh, Caroline, darl', d'you mind waitin' in the bathroom. This is guys' only talk." 

"Fine." 

Mike went to sit on Mundy's bed, next to him. 

"Look, son. Uh… Your mum and I… Uh… We could do with a couple of hours alone if you… uh… If that's ok with you…?" 

Mundy's eyes snapped wide and he sat up, looking his father in the eye and blushing. Mike was averting his gaze from his son, a bit ashamed. 

"Oh…" Mundy answered. "Right, fine, I'll uh… I'll go have a walk. I'll be back in a couple hours then. Sorry." 

"Good boy, no, no, don't apologise, it's fine." Mike said as Mundy put on his shoes and hat. "Take a bit of money with you and stay safe, eh?" 

"Will do. Thanks, Dad." 

"No, thank  _ you _ , son."

Mundy exited the hotel and soon found himself in the streets. The sun was gently setting and the sky was orange with a few streaks of pink. The next day would again be very sunny.

Mundy didn't see it. His eyes were riveted on his shoes, his hands in his pockets, and his back hunched. He was in his own bubble and wanted to stay there, have some time alone to think. 

About what? The obvious, of course. He was about to leave Paris, to leave France, to leave Europe, the Northern Hemisphere. He was about to leave Lucien and hadn't told him the dreadful news yet. Why? Because he didn't know how to tell him, especially now…! 

Mundy sighed as he recalled the events of the previous night. They were on the quays of the Seine, the river that slithers through Paris. 

"You can see almost everything from this river, eh?" Mundy realised. 

"Oui, most monuments and important buildings you can see from here." 

"Impressive… Oh…" 

Lucien had slid his arm around Mundy's and his hand glided down until his fingers laced between the Aussie's. Mundy clenched his hand. He liked it way too much. Oh, hold on, maybe it was too much? He could feel his hand sweating…!

"S-sorry…" He pulled his hand off and wiped it nervously on his trousers. 

"There is no problem." Lucien took Mundy's hand again. He pulled it up to his lips and kissed it. 

"W-woah… Uhm…" 

Lucien chuckled. 

"You are such a delightful hint of the exotism I used to love…"

"What's that mean?" 

They stopped walking along the river banks. Lucien went to the edge and looked at the streamflow for an instant. He removed his loafers elegantly and rolled his trousers' ends up along his calves. Mundy blushed. Contrary to him, Lucien didn't have a tan and being lighter in skin tone than him, he appeared almost snow white compared to Mundy. The Aussie watched as Lucien sat at the edge and let his feet dangle down. They were in the water up to his ankles. Mundy copied him and they were soon sitting side by side, their feet in the river. 

Lucien leaned on Mundy's side and took his hand again. He held it dearly between both of his own. 

"Mundy?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You are leaving a strong impression on me." 

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"Y-you too." He removed his hat and leaned his head on Lucien's. 

Silence fell for a while. It was soothing, hearing just the lapping sounds of the cool water licking their feet and their breaths. 

"Lucien?" 

"Oui?" 

"Can I ask you somethin'?" 

"You just did, and yes you may." 

"How come you uh… I mean I don't want it to sound bad but… How come you spend all your nights with me? I mean, don't you have anyone waitin' at home? Family, friends? Even the weekends you spend with me. Y'know, it's ok if you wanted to not see me for a few days, I'd understand."

"I have very few friends. To be truly honest, I have none. The only person waiting for me back home is Perle." 

"Oh, who's that? Family?"

"Better than that, she is my cat." 

"Oh, you have a kitty?" 

"The best in the world." 

"What does she look like?" Mundy asked. 

"Look here, I have a photograph of her." Lucien took his wallet off of his inner pocket and retrieved a small rectangular picture. It wasn't much bigger than a stamp. He handed it to Mundy. 

"Oh, woah… Expensive she must be, eh. Gorgeous, long, snow white fur and light eyes, like you almost - huh, I mean…"

"Oui, she has blue eyes." Lucien simply answered. "You wouldn't know on the black and white picture. And I had no idea she was expensive, even though she is priceless to me."

"You didn't buy her off a shop or someone?"

"Non, I rescued her when she was a kitten, cold, shivering and skinny. Poor baby, she barely had the strength to mewl."

"Oh, woah…" Mundy handed back the picture and as Lucien stored it safely in his wallet again, the Aussie was devouring him with his eyes. 

"I raised her as best as I could and we understand each other pretty well. She is my little baby, or as I like to call her,  _ mon petit bébé." _

"Uh… I… I mean…" Gosh, words jangled and mixed in his head. He had found a man gorgeous as a God, patient with him, who respected his shyness, didn't take advantage of it, didn't force him to do anything  _ and loved his cat? _

"Oui?" Lucien raised his fair eyes to Mundy and that didn't help the Aussie at all. His thoughts were broken, everything broke under those eyes. 

"Uh?" 

Lucien chuckled. 

"It is fine. You don't have to say anything." He leaned his head on Mundy's shoulder and held his hand. "What about you? Do you have any relatives besides your parents?" 

"Uh, no. It's just them and me. I got a few uncles and aunts. See them for Christmas with my cousins and their kids. And for the pets, we got a few dogs to keep the beasts away from the hens and geese. Mum has a cat too, Percy, he's black and white, with green eyes."

"What kinds of dogs?" 

"An Aussie shepherd and a border collie. Good girls they are. We had a few through the years but dogs don't live as long as we want them to, eh?"

"Indeed." 

"How old is your cat? What's her name again?"

"Perle, or for you,  _ Pearl. _ She is now seven years old."

"Oh, a big girl." 

"A wise lady indeed. My only companion since… A long time." 

"Fair enough. Haven't had anyone to talk to for years too. I mean, apart from my parents."

"You don't have friends in Australia?"

"I do, yeah, but… Uh… Not like you." 

"Well I don't imagine you have bakers who have become part time tourist guides there, hm?" Lucien teased. 

"Nah, that's true. But uh, yeah, I mean… We've talked about anythin' for the past few weeks, right?" 

"Oh oui, from cacti, to desert, to wild animals, Australian beers, dishes, weather, slang…."

"Yeah, and now I feel like I know Paris almost better than where I come from!" Mundy chuckled. 

They looked in each other's eyes. 

"We indeed have had conversations about anything with baffling ease." 

"Yeah…" Mundy confirmed.

" _ Merci. _ It had been ages since I last felt such a pleasant connection with someone." 

"Same for me."

Lucien had looked up at Mundy and stared. The Aussie hadn't noticed that the Frenchman's pupils dilated as they sank from his lagoon blue eyes, down his long, straight nose, to his rough, thin lips. Mundy was lost in the ice blue irises and time had stopped. Lucien did half of the work and pulled his neck up. Mundy could smell his perfume and his cigarettes, maybe a lingering faint aroma of hot flour too. But the Aussie had been oblivious and didn't meet the Frenchman half-way. 

It had been roughly twenty-fours hours after these events now, and Mundy couldn't have got any of it out of his head. He was stuck there and then, his hand between Lucien's, his head leaning on the Frenchman. 

And he found it ridiculous! Dinners in little, hidden bistrots, holding hands on the banks of the river Seine, pulling an all-nighter on the grass under the Eiffel Tower… What the hell had he become? 

If his parents knew of it, if his friends knew of it, what would they all think? A holiday romance, nothing much? Pfff… 

What hurt Mundy wasn't any of that. It was the fact that he had grown attached to Lucien. For him, it wasn't just a holiday matter, he wanted it to be more. Why? Because where on Earth would he find someone that would treat him so well and with whom he felt that he could share his everything? He felt safe with Lucien. He felt safe in a way that the hunter never thought he would one day experience because what that meant is that he was much more insecure about himself than what he let on… 

Most people he knew would describe him as a nice bloke if not very talkative. They assumed he was just like that. But now, Mundy realised that he was just…  _ shy. _ Part of him even thought that he was afraid. Of what? Of people, constantly watching and judging him. 

He didn't like people and preferred animals in that respect. Animals didn't care that you were still mostly living with your parents, driving your father's van around the desert. Animals didn't ask about his job only to fantasise about it, use him for the night and throw him away. Animals didn't think they couldn't build anything with him because of his almost nomad way of life. No, animals cared for him because he cared for them, end of story. 

" _ Bonsoir, Mundy. _ You took your time tonight, I thought you wouldn't come." 

[Good evening, Mundy.]

The voice with the French accent broke Mundy's train of thought abruptly and he winced. He looked down at his feet and gave them an angry glance. 

_ Well thanks for that… _ He was thinking. While he had been pulling on the thread of his thoughts like a cat on a ball of yarn, his feet had guided Mundy to the bakery.

"Oh, uh, y-yeah, sorry…"

"Are you alright?" Lucien asked, as Mundy still hadn't made eye contact with him. 

"Yeah, I'm fine." 

The Frenchman could have smelt that it was a lie from a mile away. He nonetheless ignored it and they both walked together along the street.

"What would you like to do tonight?" He asked.

"Don't know. You choose." 

"In that case, there is somewhere that we could try." Lucien took Mundy's hand and led the way. He had an idea to cheer up his  _ more-than-friend. _

The walk was silent as Lucien decided against insisting. Mundy seemed the type to like silence and solitude well, which the Frenchman respected. He too had his moments where he would rather be alone. 

Soon enough, they entered a café. Lucien quickly found a table and they both sat down, opposite each other. A waiter soon came. The Frenchman placed their order while Mundy was still brooding, somewhere between his own mind and nowhere… The waiter placed two mugs on the table and disappeared again. 

"Here." Lucien took Mundy's hand and pushed it to the mug gently. 

"Huh?" When his fingers registered the heat from both Lucien's hand and the mug, Mundy's eyes snapped wide and he landed back on Earth.

"Drink this." 

"What is it?"

"Can't you tell?" 

Mundy's sense of smell woke up as he raised the mug closer to his lips. 

"Hot chocolate?" 

"Oui, but not any kind. Try it." 

Mundy did as he was told and took a sip. 

"Hm… Very soft but not too sweet."

"As my mother used to do to me whenever I felt low, as a child. I kept the habit of coming here and having one whenever I felt like nothing else could help." 

"Mh." 

"Are you sure you don't want to talk to me about it, whatever it is?" Lucien asked after Mundy took another sip. 

"I… I don't know…" 

"Is it your parents? They seemed fine for lunch today." 

"No, it's not them. It's me." 

Lucien tilted his head on the side and his hand slid on the table until he cupped Mundy's, against the mug. 

"Tell me, please."

Mundy sighed. 

"I'll be goin' back to Oz. I-I'm gonna leave and… I… I kind of… I don't wanna." He mumbled, his eyes riveted on the hot chocolate. Lucien looked at him distraught. 

"I see." He answered. "Do you really wish to stay here?" 

"Y-yeah." 

"You like Paris that much?" 

Obviously, Mundy couldn't care less about the city. What counted was Lucien, and Lucien was staying there. 

"Mundy…? Talk to me, please. I hate to see you distraught." Now, both of Lucien's hands were on Mundy's, wrapped around the warm mug. 

"I don't wanna go, is all. It's childish and just plain ridiculous. But I wish I could stay and have… Have more tours of Paris.. With you." 

Lucien's thumbs brushed Mundy's hands. 

"I wish you could stay too, Mundy." Finally, the Aussie raised his head and met Lucien's sad eyes. "I have rarely felt the peace that I do with you. Your company is soothing for my now fragile nerves." 

Mundy raised an eyebrow. 

"What d'you mean?" 

"There was a time where I was able to withstand a lot of pressure on my shoulders; the pressure of an entire country even. The moment it was gone, my body and mind collapsed. I didn't know anything anymore, even my own identity, what I was,  _ who _ I was, was hard to grasp. It took years to come back from there. Years that I wouldn't have survived if not for Perle. I focused my time and energy on her. I devoted my attention to her and it distracted me from thinking too much about myself." He paused to catch his breath. 

"Y-you got ill?" Lucien raised his eyes to Mundy. 

"Oui, a kind of illness that no doctor knows exactly how to cure. A lot of soldiers go through it. They come back from the battlefields and they find it very hard to adjust back to civil life."

"You were a soldier?" 

"Worse, but oui, I belonged to the army." 

"How did you become a baker then? You were already one before you went to the army?" Mundy asked. 

"Non, I was not. I had no skills besides those that I learnt in the army, or so few. You will mock me, but the idea came from Perle."

"Your kitty?" 

Lucien nodded. 

"One day I took her out to buy some bread with me. She was lying on my shoulders and when I was queueing to get my bread, she jumped out and into the back of the bakery." Lucien smiled as he remembered the events. "The baker let me through and we looked for her together. When we found her, she was asleep on a tray of still warm brioches." 

"Aw, was that a long time ago?" 

"She was somewhere between a kitten and an adult cat; a teenager, if you will." 

"Ah, right. But how did you become a baker?" 

"I apologised profusely to the baker and told him I would pay for all the damage and the pawprints… He told me he'd rather have someone to help him make all that again rather than take my money. So I offered my help. He taught me most of what I know now."

"Wow… Talk about finding work randomly, eh…"

"Oui, indeed. Since then, I have felt much better. Working put my attention and energy into something that brought smiles to the customers and apparently, to me too." 

"So you got your own bakery goin'?" 

"The previous owner of my bakery happens to be that man from the story. He was very old and decided to retire a few years later. He offered to let me buy the shop from him, which I did. I then changed the name to mine and redid some parts inside, the decoration mainly." 

"Oh, I see… Wow… Great story you have." 

" _ Merci. _ " Lucien took a sip of his hot chocolate. "What about you? You said you were a hunter?" 

"Yeah, but work is more and more rare now when you mainly do pest control and poacher scarin'." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I don't hunt beasts for trophies, fur or fun. I hunt and tranquilise whatever happens to be a bit too far from its natural habitat, load it on my van, and drive it back where it should be or in a reserve. As for the poachers, I scare them off of endangered species." 

"So you don't kill animals?" 

"Very rarely. Only for food when I'm out for days and far from home." 

"Oh…" Lucien's eyebrows jumped. "I did not expect that. In fact, I didn't even know that this job existed." 

"As far as I know, I'm the only one who doesn't actually kill the beasts. I get contracts that get me travellin' through the world quite a bit."

"Very exciting." 

"Seein' the sights is nice, yeah. But uh, I miss my family quite fast and uh… It's not so much my family but… I feel a bit… Uh…"

"Lonely?" 

Mundy nodded. 

"Yeah…" 

"I would recommend getting a cat," Lucien said. "But I am afraid that it doesn't completely fill the emptiness that you feel inside." 

"I'd imagine so, yeah…" 

Silence fell for a while as they both drank more of their hot chocolates. 

"I would love you to stay, but your life, your family and your job are in Australia." Lucien said and his eyes met Mundy. They were both distraught and could hardly hide it. 

"Yeah… And I don't know anythin' else but shooting a rifle." Mundy looked through the window. It was now properly dark outside and only the yellow lamps inside the old café provided them with some light. 

"I am immensely grateful to you however." 

"For what?"

"I wouldn't be able to put a name on it but you brought me some peace and you made me wake up in the morning with a new feeling; the eagerness of welcoming a new day that will for sure contain some spark of joy, namely, your presence, your… Hm, you." 

Mundy blushed and turned as red as a brick. 

"Y-you do the same. I mean, for me. I uh… I'm not just happy to visit the city with my parents. I'm uh… I'm happy in the evenings, with you." 

They hadn't realised until then but they were holding hands on the table, the mugs had been pushed aside.

"I wish I could stay, I really do. But uh… Yeah, without a job or anythin', I can't." 

"I understand and, for what it is worth, I would love for you to stay too." Lucien hesitated but thought that it might be his last evening with Mundy. He looked around and could see the few customers in the café were far from them. "And not just to help you visit the city."

Mundy's eyebrows jumped as Lucien had spoken quite low. The Frenchman was staring at him with a particular shine in his eyes. He slightly bent forward and Mundy mirrored him. Their faces were a few inches apart. 

"L-Lucien, I'd uh… I'd better get back. We still gotta pack a few things before leavin' tomorrow." 

Lucien's chest burnt. Hot lava was being poured on his heart. 

"Before you go, may I tell you something?" 

They were both whispering. Mundy nodded and Lucien gestured to him to get closer, which he did. The Frenchman wrapped a hand behind Mundy's neck and the Aussie froze rigid when he felt Lucien's breath on his ear. 

_ "Je t'aime." _ He simply whispered and Mundy's entire being burst and melted when he felt Lucien's lips on his rough cheek. 

[I love you.]

"U-uh…" The air was scarce in the room but it happened too fast and Mundy was left alone at the table. Lucien had dashed out faster than a shadow. "Fuck me…" 

Soon, the surge of love was replaced by boiling rage and Mundy stormed out of the café, almost running back to the hotel. That night, he cried himself to sleep as silently as he could. He didn't want his parents to hear it. 

The next morning, Mundy was woken up by his mother. 

"Micky, sweetie? You've been sleepin' a long time, it's lunchtime now." 

"Don't wanna eat." He rolled himself under the blanket and his parents exchanged a concerned look. "You can go if you want." 

"Micky, you can't travel on an empty stomach, son." Mike's voice took the decision for everyone and Mundy sighed before getting out of bed and dressed up. 

They arranged for their luggage to be transferred to the airport while they went to have lunch. Obviously, they ended up in Lucien's bakery. 

" _ Bonjour, Lucien!" _ Mike tried his best.

" _ Bonjour, Mike. _ What will it be today?"

"Hold your horses, son, I've gotta see with the wife if I can get dessert first…!" 

"Mike, you know the answer to that…" 

"Lucien," Mike turned to the baker. "You married, by any chance?"

Lucien shook his head. 

"Non, I nearly did but it did not happen."

"Well, before you get married, ask them if you can get dessert for the rest of your life." 

"Mike…! You know why you have to be careful, the doctor said so, now be reasonable, dear." Caroline tried.

"And only get a ring on your finger if they say that yes, you can get dessert until your very last breath!" 

Lucien smiled, albeit sadly. After that, the Turner family placed their order and soon enough, their sandwiches and salads appeared on the table. 

"Lucien, excuse me, dear?" Caroline called and Lucien came to her. 

"Oui, Madame?" 

"I saw the poster on your front door. You're looking to hire?" 

"Oui, indeed. I think this is the end of a chapter for me. Time maybe to do something else." 

"Oh, that's a shame. You're very good at what you do!"

"Yeah, your sandwiches are amazin'." Mike added. 

"Thank you very much."

"Did you receive applications?" Caroline asked. 

"I am afraid not, but I have only put that poster up this morning."

"What kind of people're you lookin' for?" Mike asked. 

"Anyone, from inexperienced to confirmed bakers. In fact, I learnt this trade as a beginner and I would like to pass on my knowledge and techniques to someone else. But don't let me bother you. Enjoy your lunch." 

He bowed and returned behind his counter. Mundy hadn't listened to any of it. He couldn't even raise his eyes off of his shoes, especially not to see Lucien. It hurt too much. 

"Micky?" 

"Mh." 

"Micky, you want to eat before we go, dear." Caroline said and her son sighed before taking a bite. He chewed slowly and looked away from anyone else. 

"Don't like your sandwich, son?" 

Mundy didn't answer and didn't see Caroline and Mike exchanging a glance. 

"You can try another one, eh." 

Still no answer from the heartbroken Aussie. It was a torture. Eating a sandwich made by the hand of a man he had cried for, hands that he had spent the past few weeks holding fondly even if he had never initiated it. Gosh, now he regretted it, he should have done something, anything…! But he wasn't ready, he never was, he had never been prepared for it! In more than three decades of existence, who the hell would come to him and teach him?

"Mike, Madame Caroline?" Lucien had come to the table. 

"Yeah?" 

"I have a… an unusual request, if I may."

"Go ahead, son." Mike wiped his mouth and frowned to listen better.

"It is actually for Mundy." Lucien said and Mundy frowned too but his eyes were still low. "If you would rather make your own sandwich, you may help yourself to the fridge and the breads that I have."

Mundy didn't flinch. 

"If you want… You can… Make not only  _ your _ sandwich, but…  _ other _ sandwiches." 

"Oh, you mean to take away? Ouch!" Mike asked and received an elbow to his ribs from Caroline who glared at him. 

"That is lovely of you, Lucien. Yes, I think he would love doing that, if that is ok with you?"

"It is the least I can offer, Madame."

"Oh, you really don't have to…!"

"Allow me to insist. You have been lovely customers throughout all these weeks."

"And you have been a lovely guide! So, Micky, what do you say?" Caroline asked her son and he sighed. 

"Don't know." He mumbled. 

"C'mon sweetie, go and make your own sandwich. And make a couple of extra ones for your Dad and I, for the road."

"Mum…" Mundy hid his face in his hands. 

"Micky, you don't want to be impolite to Lucien." She insisted. 

"Hm…" He grumbled and pushed his chair back before standing up, not seeing his mother whispering something to his father.

"Here, wear this. It would be a shame to have flour on your polo shirt." Lucien handed him an apron. Mundy took it and put it on without looking at it. This whole show hurt and was preposterous… "Now let me show you around the house, pray follow me." 

Mundy dragged his feet on the floor and followed Lucien behind the counter. 

"What sandwiches would you and Mike like, Madame Caroline?" Lucien asked. 

"If you have that ham and butter, what d'you call it again, Lucien?" She answered. 

" _ Jambon-beurre, Madame."  _ He answered. "Mundy, please take one of those in front of you? Thank you, now, follow me to the fridge. Here is the light butter and the lean ham. I keep them on this side to not get them confused with their regular counterparts. Now, you will do your father's sandwich. Here, chopping board, a fresh baguette and a knife. Go ahead." 

"L-Lucien…" Mundy sighed in front of the ingredients. "I can't." 

Caroline stood up and went to the counter with Mike, customer side, while Mundy and Lucien were on the other side. 

"C'mon, son, your first sandwich here, Micky! Caroline, get the camera!" Mike encouraged him. 

"And we get to see you make it!" Caroline added enthusiastically and readied herself to take a picture.

"Wh-what?" Mundy asked, confused that his parents were that thrilled for… him making a couple of sandwiches.

"C'mon, cut the bread, Micky, chop, chop!" Mike said and Mundy got to work, missing the point entirely. He made the sandwich for his father and added his mother's to the plastic bag. 

"I won't take one for myself." Mundy said and started undoing the apron. 

"Of course not, son!" Mike answered with a chuckle and Mundy's confusion just jumped a notch.

"And what are you doing, Micky? Keep the apron!" Caroline laughed.

"What? I'm not gonna travel with that!" Mundy answered. 

"Of course not!" She answered. 

"What the hell's been going on? Look, this is just - it's just…!" Mundy covered his face with his hands to hide his shame. At that point he thought it was a nightmare and he would wake up. 

"Ooh, we're sorry, sweetie…" Caroline hugged him. "We didn't want to upset you." 

"But why…?"

"Micky, look at your apron, son." Mike said.

"Dad, look, I'm just tired. Let's go back home." Beyond the distress of leaving Lucien, Mundy felt embarrassed, ashamed to have been put on the spot with the apron, the sandwich making… What was that all about…?

" _ S'il te plaît, Mundy."  _

_ [Please, Mundy.] _

Caroline and Mike stepped back to let Lucien get closer to Mundy. The Aussie turned his face away. He couldn't take any of it anymore. 

"Mundy…?" 

"Take it back and leave me alone." Mundy removed the apron completely and pushed it against Lucien's chest. 

"On one condition, you look here." 

Mundy sighed but obeyed. Lucien held the apron between his hands. 

"What do you read here?"

The apron was white with something sewn on it. Mundy squinted. His shoulders and jaw dropped when he read the word. 

_ Mundy _

It was sewn in cursive letters. Mundy looked at Lucien's apron. His name was sewn in the same style. 

"What? What's that mean?"

"It means, and forgive me for repeating myself, that I am offering you a job here." Lucien answered. 

"What?! I know nothing of bread!"

"I will teach you, you will see, it isn't hard at all." 

"But why? I gotta go back home…" Mundy turned to his parents. 

"Micky, you can stay longer if you want." Mike said. 

"Yeah, it's fine, you're a big boy and you've stayed with us long enough. Maybe this is your chance?" Caroline added and Mundy's eyes lit up with joy and excitement. 

"Really?" His voice broke under the emotion he was trying to prudely contain. 

"Of course!" Caroline answered. She went to the tip of her toes to put a hand on Mundy’s rough, slender cheek. "Look, for the past few weeks, we realised with your Dad that we hadn't seen you that happy in years. Each night, when you come back from your walks, you smile and even when you sleep, the smile stays on…!"

"Your Mum's right, son. If you're happy here with Lucien, then stay, at least a bit more. And it's not like you were exactly earnin' a decent wage out of a few hunting contracts, eh? Folks will find other people to deal with their beasts. You deal with you, ok?" 

"Oh my God…" Mundy's tears came to his eyes faster than he could control. "Gosh…!" He hid his face and his shame with his hands.

"Aw, baby Micky…!" Caroline went to the tip of her toes to hug him and Mike tapped him on the back. 

"It's alright, son, it's alright." 

"But, you sure, though?" Mundy withdrew from the hug and looked his parents in the eye. 

"Of course! We'll make it back home and give you a call when we get there." Caroline said, pinching his cheek gently. 

"Yeah, of course!" Mike added. "Now, c'mere son." Father and son exchanged a long hug. "You make your parents proud, yeah?" 

"Yeah, Dad, don't worry."

"And you be a good boy, eh?" Caroline added. 

"Yes, Mum, I will."

"You look out for each other, alright boys?" Mike looked at Lucien. 

"We will, Mike." The Frenchman answered. "But Mundy…?" 

"Yeah?"

"Do you accept my offer?" Lucien held the apron up. 

Mundy looked at his parents who nodded, then back at Lucien. 

"Yeah… Please." 

"Fine." Lucien got closer and put the apron on Mundy. He then tied it for him as the Aussie's eyes were riveted on his parents. Caroline was leaning on her husband's side and both wore a proud smile. Mundy hadn't seen his parents smile like that for a long, long time. "There, you are ready." 

"Thanks, Lucien." They exchanged a tender gaze and didn't see Caroline's eyes light up. 

"Right, boys, I think we should be on our way." Mike said. 

"But of course." Lucien answered. "Here, your sandwiches for the road."

"Mum, you call me as soon as you can, ok?" Mundy said, as they all went to the front door. 

"Yes, dear, don't worry." 

They were now standing outside of the bakery under the beautiful and powerful summer sun. 

"You call us sometimes, Micky, eh?" Mike said. 

"Sure, I will." 

Hugs and kisses were exchanged. 

"And you, you take care of our son, alright?" Mike was shaking Lucien's hand and patted his shoulder. After that, he waved for a taxi to stop.

"I will think of him before I think of myself." Lucien answered while giving a nod. 

"And Micky, you take care of Lucien too, eh?" Caroline said as she winked, making her son blush beyond his ears. 

"Y-yeah Mum, will do…" 

"Bye, son." 

"Bye guys, careful on your way back, eh?" Mundy answered.

"We will, don't worry." 

And on that, they all waved at each other as Mike and Caroline slipped in the taxi and they went their way. Lucien and Mundy stayed for a while, even after the taxi disappeared. The Aussie was out of breath, everything had happened quite fast. 

“I’ll miss them.” He said.

“I will miss them too. You are lucky to have very supportive parents, Mundy.” 

“Yeah… But I’m glad to stay here.”

"So…" Lucien said as both him and Mundy entered the shop again.

"Yeah?" 

"Ready to learn the fine art of bread and pastry making?" 

"I guess… I mean, I didn't really think it through, eh." Mundy chuckled and looked at Lucien. "But with you, anythin'." 

The Frenchman smiled. 

"First lesson: follow me." 

They went back behind the counter and Lucien even invited Mundy in the hidden workshop, behind a wooden door. There were tables lined up in the room, fridges on one wall and ovens in the other.

"Woah… It smells incredible in here…!" Mundy said as he was hit by a wave of hot flour. 

"Indeed. You will see, you will never get tired of that incomparable smell. Hot flour and sometimes, hints of sugar."

"Yeah…” Mundy inhaled deeply and when he exhaled, his eyes were half closed. That place was heaven... “Right, so what's first?" 

Lucien shut the door and looked up at Mundy. 

"First, I have to ask you, are you sure you want to stay with me? We can still call a taxi for you and you can join your parents." 

Lucien's light blue eyes raised up to Mundy were a sight to behold for the shy Aussie. 

"Y-yeah."

"Yes, what? Shall we call a taxi or…?"

"No. I wanna… Try, with you." 

Lucien's smile made all his face beam up poetically. He closed the gap between Mundy and himself and hugged the taller man. 

"Thank you so much." Both closed their eyes and held dearly to each other. “Thank you so much for trusting me and for believing that this is all worthwhile. I do appreciate that you are leaving everything behind just for me and… I am beyond grateful.”

Mundy bent down to put his lips next to Lucien's ear.

" _ Lucien _ ?" He whispered. 

"Oui?" 

" _ I think I… I love you too."  _ Mundy screwed his eyes shut and buried his head deep in the crook of Lucien's neck, holding Lucien not like a friend, but like the salvation he felt God sent to him through that man. 

"Mundy…?" 

"Yeah?"

"Look at me." 

Mundy did as he was told and Lucien wrapped his arms around the Aussie's neck. 

"O-oh… Right… Y-yeah?" 

Lucien smiled before his eyelashes bowed down as he slowly closed his eyes. He pushed himself to the tip of his toes and did what he had dreamt of doing. 

Mundy's eyes rolled up in bliss and if he froze for a second, the kiss made him soon melt such that he bent down and pulled Lucien from his back and his hip, to feel more of him against himself. He yielded to the passion of the moment, he let everything explode in him, the yearning, the longing... 

It lasted for a few seconds that they both wanted to extend, but the call for air was stronger. When they broke the kiss, they stayed with their foreheads against each other. 

Neither knew what to say first, to exit that moment. 

"Hold on…" Mundy eventually said. 

"Oui? Something is the matter?" Lucien asked. 

"No but… You had an apron with my name all along?" 

"Non," Lucien chuckled. "When I came back yesterday night, I spent some time thinking and smoking. I couldn't help but repeat the discussion we had in the café on loop in my head. And then I remembered what you said, that you wouldn't be able to stay without a job. That was when I got the idea to hire you."

"Oh, woah…"

"So I woke up this morning, my mind set as hard as stone. I thought that I would ask in front of your parents." 

"How did you know they'd accept?" 

"I think your mother felt it, for a long time." 

"She felt what?" 

"Mundy, she is a woman, and your mother, she feels those things. Besides, each time you have lunch here you stare at me with such insistence…!"

"What?! No, I don't!" Mundy protested and his cheeks turned red. 

"Yes, you do,  _ mon amour,  _ and don't blush so much…" Lucien chuckled and tapped the tip of Mundy's nose. 

"Did you just call me-?"

" _ My love _ , oui. Now, let us go to work - oh?!" Lucien's sentence was interrupted by an intense - if slightly awkward - kiss. Mundy held him dearly, almost clawed in his sides and Lucien smiled. 

"That is quite unprofessional, hm?" The Frenchman teased.

"Well, you started it, eh?" 

"Non, I did not kiss my employer." 

"You kissed your employee, that's worse." 

"Non, you are not my employee yet."

"What?" 

"You are my apprentice…"

"Right, fair enough. What's that make you then?" Mundy asked. 

"... And my lover." 

"Oh, right, ok, uhm… I-I mean…" 

"And very shy." 

"Well…" 

They spent the beginning of that afternoon in the workshop dealing with bread and pastries as they teased each other. When the time came to close the shop and go back home, Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"H-hold on." He said on the pavement with Lucien.

"Oui?" 

"I… I don't have a home here… I could probably be able to pay a couple more nights at the hotel but…"

Lucien's chuckle cut Mundy's sentence. 

"Why're you laughin'? I'm telling you I'm homeless…!"

"Don't be silly, Mundy. Come." Lucien took his hand and led the way. 

"Right… I s'ppose you can walk me back to the hotel…" 

"Non, I will not and I am not." 

"Where are we goin' then?" 

"Home." 

Mundy frowned in confusion but decided to wait and see. Meanwhile, he held Lucien's hand dearly in his own. A few minutes later, Lucien stopped and got some keys out of his pocket. He unlocked the door and flipped a switch. 

"Meow…!" 

A white cloud brushed the floor and jumped in Lucien's arms. 

_ "Oui, mon bébé, bonsoir, Papa est rentré…" _

_ [Yes, my baby, good evening to you too, Papa has come home…] _

He kissed her countless times and carried her in his arms indeed like a baby. 

"Mundy, this is Perle. Perle, this is Mundy." 

"Oh, yeah, your kitty…! Hello there, pretty lady…" Mundy scratched her cheeks and jaw, and soon both Lucien and him heard her pur. 

"She likes you already." Lucien said. 

"I'm good with animals usually, yeah… Hold on, what d'you mean  _ 'already'?" _

"Perle," Lucien said to his cat. "Mundy here is more than just a man who knows how to scratch you perfectly." 

"Meow?" 

"Oui, he is Papa's  _ very good friend. _ "

"Meow…?"

"Fine, oui, he is Papa's…  _ Second half." _

"Meow!"

"Don't worry, you are still my baby, but now, you are  _ our  _ baby, because Mundy here" Lucien raised his eyes to his lover. "Mundy here will live with us." 

"Wh-...? Wait, are you serious?" Mundy asked in shock at the door's threshold. Lucien pulled him in and closed the door after him. 

"I am. Now, make yourself at home, and give me an instant, someone has to feed this snow white baby."

"Meow!" 

Lucien went to the kitchen as Mundy opened wide eyes and observed every little thing in the room. The paintings, most of them abstract, the furniture, the brown leather sofa, the persian style carpet in front of it, on which was the coffee table. There was a fireplace too and on the mantelpiece, pictures. They were all about Perle, the white kitten who grew to a majestic, fluffy creature with mesmerising blue eyes, a bit like her master.

"One last thing Mundy…!" Lucien said from the kitchen. 

"Yeah?" 

"I have only one double bed!"

Mundy blushed and smiled.

  
  



	6. Heart and Confession

"Would you like more wine?" 

"If you still don't charge for it, yeah." 

"I might start doing it."

"No, you won't…!"

Spy chuckled and filled Sniper's glass again. 

"Oi, no, Hootsy, wine's not for you, mate." Sniper gently pushed his pet owl away from the glass. "You got water with Spy's kitty." 

"Hoo!"

"What's this talkin' back now, eh? Who taught you that?"

"Meow!" Spy's long haired, white cat jumped on the coffee table and supported her feathery friend. 

"Course, Spy's kitty taught you that, eh?" 

"How dare you?" Spy answered and his cat hopped on his lap. She purred as the man in the mask ran his fingers through her luscious fur. "Perle's manners are irreprochable, Bushman." 

Sniper chuckled. Spy looked like a Bond villain stroking his cat like that, one leg on the other, sitting on the sofa next to him. The light from the fireplace added to the theatrics of it.

"Yeah, as much as yours, eh, you thief."

"Are you talking about the cigarette from the other day, again? It was not theft." 

"What was it, then? Robbery?"

"Non, a magic trick." 

"Oh, right, yeah, a magic trick where you steal my cigarette off my very lips never to be seen again?" 

"Besides, how could you possibly know it was me?" Spy asked with a playful smirk.

"Cause the cig started floatin' on its own. Not a lot of people can cloak and do that, Spook." 

"It could have been the enemy Spy, non?" Spy teased further. 

"Nah, it was you."

"Again, how could you know?" 

"The other Spy would've just backstabbed me and gone away. You're the constant pain in the neck!"

Spy chuckled and took a sip of his wine.

"So if I understand correctly, the pain he inflicts is in your back, while the one I do is on your neck?"

"Yeah, somethin' like that." Sniper answered his friend's chuckles.

"Well then, no wonder why you keep complaining about your back, hm? And look at your posture… Straighten your back, Bushman." 

"Can't. Hurts too much." Sniper tried but the pain stopped his motion. 

"Has it always been hurting like that? Perhaps you should see Medic about it?"

"Nah, it's just the rifle's weight. I used to be doin' a few contracts here and there so I didn't really have to hold it and strain m'self for days on end. Now in Mann Co., things are quite different."

"Hm. I see. Still, maybe it is worth having it checked by Medic if it is indeed that painful?" 

"Nah, the guy's a freak. Chances are he'll open me up and put a brain or something in my back, ugh!" Sniper winced.

"As much as he is a  _ freak _ , he is the medical expert here and knows his trade." 

"Meow…" Perle went to Sniper's lap and he scratched her jaw. She purred. 

"Yeah, I know… Still, the idea of goin' to him gets me more tense." Sniper answered.

"Do you want me to go with you?" 

Sniper looked at Spy. He expected to see mischievous eyes with a hint of mockery in his voice. He found none of that. Spy seemed genuinely in the mood to help him.

"Nah. I just don't like goin' there unless I really have to. But uh, thanks, eh?"

They exchanged a gaze and a grin. 

"May I then suggest something else?" Spy asked. 

"What?" 

"Give me your back." 

"What? No, you're a Spook!"

"Bushman, I am not the one who stabs you in the back. Apparently, I only weigh on your neck…!"

Sniper was still hesitant. 

"And who have you shared most of your evenings with as of late? And who are you getting drunk with today, on a Friday night, hm?" Spy raised a playful eyebrow. 

"You…"

"Getting yourself drunk with me is way more dangerous than facing the other way and giving me your back. Now, please…" Spy gently pushed his cat aside and scooted closer to the Aussie. "Your back." He gestured to Sniper to turn. 

"Right…" Sniper sighed and turned on the sofa. "But I swear, if you put one of your butter knives there…!"

"Breathe." Spy put his hands on Sniper's shoulders. "And let your shoulders fall."

"Mph…" Sniper grumbled. 

"Silence and follow my instructions, Bushman. To think that you normally are the least sociable… And now, when you would benefit from remaining quiet, that is when you decide to speak…! Good. Now…" 

Sniper didn't see it but Spy removed his gloves before putting his hands on the Aussie's polo shirt again, on his shoulders. 

"Here is your spine…" Spy let his fingers slither down slowly, gently tapping Sniper's vertebrae. 

"Playin' the drums on my back now?"

"Shush! I am counting!" 

"What the hell are you counting? The places to put a knife?" 

"Non, you fool…" Spy chuckled. "I am counting your vertebrae. And to answer your worries, if I were to put a blade in your back, I would put it here." Spy gently pressed his index and middle finger slightly left from Sniper's spine. "Hm. I can feel the stab scars left by my counterpart through your shirt."

"Yeah, you both stab where it hurts, eh?" 

"Namely, straight to the heart." Spy said and Sniper chuckled. 

"Almost romantic, eh?" 

"It is absolutely so!" Spy answered as his palms slid to Sniper's shoulder blades. He started pressing harder. 

"Oh, is it now - ouch?! That hurt…!"

"Oui, I can feel the knots." Spy confirmed. "Take a deep breath, I will work on them." 

"Right… Be gentle, ok? It hurts when you press it down…"

"Never has anyone complained about my massages in the past. Relax." 

Sniper thanked the Lord Spy was behind him and couldn't see the pink on his cheeks. 

"Here… Do you feel this…? This is one knot… It is a bundle of muscles that has decided to stay tense because you are making it work too much…"

"Spook?"

"What now, Bushman? A witty remark about how muscular your back is? Oui, it is more muscular than what I thought, now, please, remain silent and continue breathing deep and slowly."

"N-no, Spook…" Sniper's cheeks turned a shade more pink. "Shouldn't I be lying down for this?" 

Spy stopped sharp and his eyebrows jumped. 

"Oui, you should. But seeing how reluctant you were to give me your back, I did not want to suggest anything more."

"It's ok. If you think it's better for me to lie down, then I'll do it." Sniper answered. 

"You can't lie on this sofa, you are too tall and wouldn't be comfortable. I am afraid the only piece of equipment that might work is my bed." 

"Uh…"

"I have no issue with this but will understand if you would rather sit here."

"No, it's fine. Let's get there. My back's been killing me for long enough." Sniper answered. 

"Are you sure?" Spy's hand sank down and Sniper turned to him.

"Well, if you wanted to stab me with your tiny knife, you'd have done it by now, right?" He smiled.

"I would have indeed." Spy nodded and returned the grin. "Follow me." 

Both stood up and Spy led the way to his bedroom right next door from his smoking room. 

"Jesus, that's the biggest bed I've seen in my life, d'you never drown in there?"

Spy rolled his eyes and gave a small chuckle. 

"Lie down on your stomach."

"D'you need my shirt off?" 

" _ Almost romantic, eh?"  _ Spy quoted Sniper. 

"Alright, Spook, don't make it weird…!" 

"You are the one who suggested removing your shirt as you entered my bedroom." Spy answered. 

"Yeah but not  _ like that…!" _

Both chuckled. 

"If you so wish, you may, it would indeed be more practical for me. In that case, let me get more comfortable too." Spy removed his tie and undid his cufflinks before rolling his sleeves up along his forearms. 

"Wooh, Spy with no tie? You alright? Not feelin' too naked?" Sniper snickered. 

"Barely." Spy answered with a smirk. "Now, if I am to work on your bare back let me bring some oil." He walked to his night table and opened the small cupboard door. Sniper saw multiple bottles there.

"Oil? What're you gonna do? Season me and cook me? I knew you Frenchies ate weird stuff but come on…!" 

Spy retrieved a small glass bottle. 

"Says the man who can eat whatever crosses his scope in this God forsaken desert." 

"Yeah well… It's good if you know how to grill it. Should come around one day and try. I'm good with a barbie." Sniper removed his top, giving his back to Spy before turning to him. "So, want me on my belly?" 

Spy raised one interested eyebrow. It might have been because of Sniper's invitation, or his physique, perhaps even both.

"Oui, please. And you are inviting me to play with dolls? I did not take you for one with such interests, Bushman."

"What?" 

"You said, and I quote,  _ 'I'm good with a barbie.'  _ Barbies are dolls for little girls." Spy motioned his colleague to lie and Sniper did, on his stomach and laughed. 

"I'm not talkin' about Barbie dolls, you genius. A barbie for us is a barbeque!" 

"Ah…" Spy smiled. "It would make more sense than a feral Bushman playing with little girls' toys." He spread just a splash oil in the palm of his hands and rubbed them together. 

"Oof, your hands are cold, Spook…!" Sniper's body tensed at the first touch with Spy's hands.

"Like my blood, if I believe your words…" 

Sniper smiled. 

"Right, I'm sorry. I don't think you're that cold." 

Spy rolled his eyes with a sweet grin. 

"I know, Sniper, I know." Spy rubbed his hands slowly on Sniper's back. "Are you comfortable here?" 

"Your bed's the best thing I've ever laid on in my life… You must fall asleep in the blink of an eye…"

"Believe it or not, I rarely do."

"Really…?"

"Mh-hm." Spy let his hands explore Sniper's back. Slow circles, pushing his palms between the shoulder blades, kneading the skin and soft muscles underneath.

"That's where you get yer beauty sleep from, eh?"

"What? You make no sense,  _ mon ami. _ The wine is getting to you." Spy softly chuckled.

[My friend]

"No… It's yer hands… And yeah, I'm as comfy as I could ever be…"

"That, I am not sure of. Here, lay your head on my pillow." Spy pushed it and Sniper obeyed. 

"Christ, what is it made of? Angel wings' feathers…? That's gotta be the softest thing ever…" Sniper felt his head delicately sink on his colleague's pillow, and took a deep breath. Gosh, it smelt of a mix of Spy's perfume and the scent of his shampoo, it smelt expensive, subtle and minty...

"Almost, almost… But oui, now you are comfortable. And please, relax." Spy started running his fingers around the Aussie’s spine again.

"It's hard…"

"Why?" Spy was now whispering. 

"Cause… I don't know." 

"Let me help… Please." Spy went on whispering, and between the slow waves of his menthol-tinted whispers whirling in the air and the movements of his hands, sliding on the Aussie's back, pushing the muscles to surrender, Sniper gently closed his eyes. 

"Spook…?"

"Hm?" 

"Thanks." 

"You are more than welcome." Spy was on his knees, next to Sniper's body. 

"No… Really…" 

"And oui, really, you are welcome." Spy didn't realise it but the smile he had lingered on his lips for a long while, while silence fell in the room. The smell of the oil rose and filled the air. It was pinetrees, a fresh forest under Spy's skilled and warm fingers. 

"Sniper, please, I can feel you are tense…"

"Sorry… Havin' a spy behind my back isn't easy to accept." 

"Hm. Let me try something." Spy stepped off of the bed and behind his shut eyelids, Sniper saw the lights in the room drop. He opened his eyes and saw that Spy had indeed switched the lights off.

"Spook?"

"Shh, now," Spy hopped on the bed to resume his position next to Sniper's body. "Close your eyes again."

"Spy, it's worse, now I can't see you."

"You couldn't see me before either, your eyes were closed." 

"Y-yeah, guess you're right." 

"Close your eyes again and breathe in long and slow breaths, from your lower stomach preferably." Spy started the massage again.

"Why?" Sniper asked yet obeyed anyway. 

"Because this is how newborns breathe, from their lower stomachs, not filling their chests with air. Carefree, baby breaths are from your diaphragm, not your lungs." 

"Really…?"

"Oui."

"How d'you know that…?" Sniper's words were slower and Spy smiled. 

"Contrary to you, I live in the city where I experience these wild exchanges called  _ social interactions…" _

"Spook…?" Sniper's lips pursed up in a smile.

"What that means is that I use my vocal chords to communicate with  _ other human beings. _ " Spy went on with his teasing, as well as with the massage. He could feel the knots below his hand.

"Spook, I know what you mean…"

"Oh, my apologies. I assumed a feral Bushman like you would hardly understand." 

"Pfff, you and your big words…" 

Spy smiled. 

"But you like my big words, as you call them, and you don't want me to stop talking."

Sniper's lips retracted and his smile slowly vanished.

"W-what…?" 

"I have never heard you ask me that many things or question me that much for as long as I know you."

"It's the wine, Spook…"

"Non, it is not. We have been drunk before, together, and more than just this. Non, there is something else." Sniper fell silent. "Something that annoys you, I can feel you tense again under my hands." 

"Mmh…" Sniper grumbled.

"You may speak it out if you so wish." 

"I just… I like your voice. It's calm. That's it." 

Spy smiled.

"And I, your sense of humour." He answered. 

"Hm, that's just cause you're a posh snob but deep down… You're just a simple bloke…" Sniper's voice was different. He sounded almost sleepy. It made Spy's smile widen. 

"I might be." He simply replied as he moved on to the next knot. Now, he applied pressure to specific points, circling around firmly yet not too much, just what was needed to slowly bring the tension down. "Since you seem to like hearing me, may I tell you a story?" 

"Sure…" 

"This is a classic French poem. It was written to educate Louis the 15th as a young boy." 

"Mmh…" Sniper smiled. He didn't have the energy to mock his friend. 

"It is called  _ Le corbeau et le renard,  _ the crow and the fox." Spy started and then recited it in French. 

To Sniper, it was gibberish. God only knew what Spy was reciting. But it rhymed, the rhythm was soothing, it rocked Mundy almost to sleep and what a velvet voice… He could listen to it for hours without tiring. 

As he recited the poem from memory, Spy untied the remaining knots on Sniper's shoulders. When he finished, he did not stop massaging. He went on, because he liked hearing Sniper's soft mumbles, his groans as the tension exited his body and dissolved away. 

Sniper was somewhere between asleep and awake, in that limbo where nothing was exactly real or a dream. His body had completely sunk in Spy's mattress and pillow, and everything felt heavy now, so heavy… 

The Frenchman finished the poem but went on, seamlessly. He jumped from one poem written more than a hundred years before for a prince, to one he was improvising for a friend.

_ "Et je n'oserais jamais t'avouer,  _

_ [And I would never admit] _

_ Ce secret qui me hante, qui me fait rêver, _

_ [This secret that haunts me, that dream,] _

_ Sentir ta peau, glisser sous mes doigts curieux,  _

_ [To feel your skin slide under my curious fingers,] _

_ Sentir ton repos, et te voir aussi heureux.  _

_ [To feel you rest and to see you so peaceful.] _

_ Si j'étais un homme de grand courage,  _

_ [If I was a man of great courage,] _

_ Je te le dirais. _

_ [I would tell you] _

_ Qu'avant de dormir je vois une image, _

_ [That before falling asleep I see one image,] _

_ Celle de tes yeux sur moi pour l'éternité." _

_ [That of your eyes on me for eternity.] _

Spy stopped and sighed. The whole room now smelt like a forest in winter, yet the air was warm. He winced and started regretting it. Even though it was in French, declaring his love for his colleague was…  _ odd. _ Arh, he shouldn't have. Such words don't need a translation to be understood. 

"Spook…?" 

"Oui?" 

"That prince's poem…"

"What about it?"

"Longest poem I've ever heard in my life." Sniper answered, his mouth half in the pillow, and his voice slightly muffled. Spy grinned.

"Well, I do apologise. I did not want to bore you." 

"Nah… It's fine. But uh… The end…"

"Oui?"

"Rhythm's different…" 

Spy raised an eyebrow but then shook his head.

"Indeed." 

"Why…?"

"Because it is not part of the poem." 

"What d'you mean?" 

"I… took the liberty to add a few verses, which by the way have nothing to do with the poem itself." Spy admitted.

"Oh…? What did you add…? I mean, what's it mean?"

Spy smiled, albeit sadly. He fell silent, thinking of the best way to answer. Meanwhile, Sniper sat up and turned to him. 

"Spook…? What is it?" He sat cross-legged in front of Spy who was sitting on his knees, his head lowered. 

"Sniper?"

"Yeah?" 

"If… If you were to put an arrow through me," Spy started, and Sniper listened carefully. They felt alone in the world in the intimacy of Spy's bedroom, in total darkness. "Where would you put it?" 

Sniper raised his index and poked Spy on his chest. "Like you with your knife, through your heart." 

Spy nodded and lowered his head again. He sat on his behind and raised his knees in front of him before wrapping his arms around his legs. 

"Why are you askin' this?" 

"Because you did exactly that, thus answering your own question better than I could have."

"What…?" Sniper took a moment to think. He had asked Spy what were those words that he improvised at the end of his poem, and the Frenchman had made him say that he put an arrow through his heart? "But I'd never shoot you, you're a teammate." Sniper answered. 

"I am a teammate?" Spy answered and Sniper clearly heard distress, maybe even disappointment. 

"Yeah, and a good mate." Sniper put his hand on Spy's shoulder and the Frenchman sighed. "What is it, Spy? Tell me?"

_ "And I would never admit _

_ This secret that haunts me, that dream, _

_ To feel your skin slide under my curious fingers, _

_ To feel you rest and to see you so peaceful. _

_ If I was a man of great courage, _

_ I would tell you _

_ That before falling asleep I see one image, _

_ That of your eyes on me for eternity." _

Sniper's jaw dropped. 

"These are the few verses that I added." Spy sighed and put a hand over his eyes. "Of course, it rhymes in French." 

Sniper opened round eyes of surprise. 

"Spook…" 

"Non. You don't need to say anything." Spy wiggled his shoulder to move Sniper's hand away and stood off of the bed. He headed for the bedroom's door. "You may dress back up and leave. I apologise and will understand if you wish to not spend more time with me." 

Sniper was about to answer but Spy left the bedroom and shut the door. He leaned his back on it and sank to the floor, hiding his face in his hands. 

What a moment of weakness…! Bravo, Spy, bravo. Four decades of existence and romantic adventures to ruin this. Remarkable! One would think that with more than forty years of existence and more than twice that number of romantic conquests, Spy would know better. But non. Or at least, not when it counted. 

If the seduction was part of the mission, then yes, of course, it would be a piece of cake. Spy would just be himself and chances are the person would fall. 

But Sniper was not part of any mission. He just happened to be the kind of company that Spy so rarely experienced. Witty remarks, banter, teasing… Everything was perfect with him, it flowed naturally and he didn't have to hide his job to the Aussie! 

There was close to no lies between them. Well, apart from Spy's feelings for his colleague. 

"Spook?"

Spy removed his hands off his face. Sniper was right on the other side of the door. 

"Spook, I know you're here… Uh… Can I open the door?" 

Spy pushed his heavy self back on his feet and adjusted his shirt. 

"Oui, you may. My apologies." He turned and went back to the sofa where he saw the bottle of wine, the glasses on the coffee table. Next to them, Hootsy was sleeping, wrapped in Perle's fur. 

Sniper pushed the door and entered the smoking room. 

"Uh… Spy?" He approached the sofa from behind.

Spy raised his hand to cut him short. He didn't want to drag this situation and make it more awkward. 

Sniper sighed. He stayed there, planted behind the sofa for a second. But then he frowned and walked around to sit next to the Frenchman. 

"Spy?" 

"What now? I told you, you may leave." 

"Where would you put your knife if you wanted to stab me from the front?" 

"What?" Spy finally turned to Sniper.

"Show me."

"Sniper-"

"Where?" He insisted. 

"You know where."

"Spook, just show it to me." 

"There." Spy nodded to Sniper's chest. 

"With your finger…" 

Spy sighed and pointed at Sniper's heart. 

"There, are you satisfied, now?' 

"No." Sniper wrapped his palm around Spy's finger and kept it hanging in the air in front of his chest. "Open your hand." 

"What?"

"Open your hand, c'mon." 

Spy obeyed and opened his palm.

"Now close your eyes." 

"Sniper, where is this going?" Spy asked, irritated.

"Nowhere if you don't do what I'm sayin'. Now, eyes, shut." 

Spy sighed and frowned but obeyed.

"Here…" Sniper pulled Spy's entire hand to his chest. "Now tell me what you said again."

"What? Why? You want to humiliate me now?" Spy opened his eyes.

"Shut up and bloody do it!" 

They locked eyes and stared madly at each other until Spy's eyebrows relaxed. If those were his last moments of friendship with Sniper, he would do anything the Aussie asked him. He closed his eyes again.

"And do it in French, please." 

Spy rolled his eyes behind his shut eyelids.  _ Oui, Sniper, anything you want, _ he thought.

And so he repeated the few verses of his improvised poem. Spy knew how to appreciate poetry, not only in words but in any situation. Yet, he wasn't as good when it comes to making some of his own. 

As he recited the lines that he started to know by heart now, he felt Sniper's chest bumping against his palm harder and faster. Spy opened his eyes and looked down at Sniper's chest, then back up at his collar that he saw was trembling. He frowned, not understanding why Sniper’s heart would wake up while hearing gibberish…

Soon enough, he finished.

“D’you feel it?” Sniper asked and Spy frowned, lowering his eyes.

“I feel your heart, oui.”

“No, you felt it. Stop lyin’, Spook, be clear!”

“I am!”

“No!” Sniper answered and Spy looked away. “Please… You’re not making it easy for either of us. Just say what you think.”

“Fine. Oui, I felt your heart beat faster as I spoke. Why? Were you holding back laughter?”

“Why d’you always have to think that I’m mocking you? No! It’s the opposite, you idiot, I was bein’ moved!” Spy’s eyebrows jumped. “Yeah, I was bein’ moved! I… Look I have no idea what you just said meant, but I can feel it, ok? Listen to you when you speak French, you sound completely different! You don’t sound like a cold-blooded snake and you don’t sound like you’re just a mate, you sound so… so… sensitive!”

Spy’s blush was visible, even with his mask on. He was thankful the lights were off. Sniper tightened his grip on Spy’s hand.

“C’mere…” He pulled Spy from behind his neck and stuck his head on his chest. “Listen… D’you hear that?” Sniper whispered and Spy nodded against his chest. “What is it?”

“Your heart.”

“Yeah, now sit up, let me listen…” Sniper pushed his head against Spy’s chest and the Frenchman blushed beyond his ears. He started sweating under his mask. “I can hear yours. It does the same thing as mine.”

“What do you mean?” Spy asked.

“Gosh, you’re thick sometimes! Well, I love you too, you idiot! There, I said it, is that clearer? It’s gotta be, can’t make it more clear than that, eh?”

Spy slowly grinned, and his smile transformed in a smirk.

“Why’re you smug now?”

Spy poked Sniper’s heart.

“Boom, stabbed right in the heart, and you confessed before I did.”

“Wha-Spook!”

Spy chuckled. 

“I love you too, Bushman.  _ Viens ici…” _

_ [Come here...] _

Spy pulled Sniper from his collar and kissed him passionately. When the surprise passed, and it soon did, Sniper wrapped his arms around Spy, one hand around his waist, the other on his back, pulling him to himself equally strongly. When their lips parted, both chuckled.

“I hate you when you play me like that, Spook.”

“Non, you don’t.”

“Shut up...” Sniper chuckled. 

“Not a chance.”

“Pfff…”

Their embrace lasted and they clung to each other, Spy’s head beneath Sniper’s jaw.

“Sniper?”

“Yeah?”

“Straighten your back.”

“Not my fault, you’re small.”

“It is your fault. You are too tall.”

“Tiny snake.”

“Giant kangaroo.”

“I love you.” Sniper tightened the hug.

“So do I, and I don’t intend to massage you everyday, so please, straighten your posture.”

“Nah.” Sniper answered.

“Why? Is it just to annoy me?”

“Partly, yeah.”

“What is the other part?” Spy asked, his eyes closed in the safety of the Aussie’s arms.

“The other part in me thinks that it wants more massages from you. You got amazing hands.” Sniper answered.

“Mh, you have seen nothing of what my hands are able to do, Bushman.” 

Spy smirked as he heard Sniper’s heartbeat jump under his masked ear. 


	7. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had two ideas for confession, so here they are :)

"Mmph?" 

"Yeah, Py', Demo's been playin' quite late recently." 

Engineer and Pyro were in the Texan's garage. Well, the word 'garage' failed to really name that place. Engineer's quarters consisted of a workshop and a suite with a bedroom and bathroom. The workshop area was wide enough such that the Texan had managed to put a TV screen and a sofa. 

It was Saturday night and both colleagues were enjoying a late night movie. 

"Mmh-mmph!" 

Engineer chuckled. 

"Yeah, buddy, you're right. He does sound funny, eh? I mean, usually he practises more quietly." 

"Mmh?"

"Well, the bar is underneath mah garage. Usually, he goes there and sings sea shanties or other drunk songs while playin' the piano, y'know, like he did yesterday?" 

Pyro nodded and pulled the blanket over his friend and him. 

"But as of late, I've noticed it's more, uh… Melodious?"

"Mmh mmph!"

"Yeah, and quite loud. Really odd, it almost doesn't sound like him. Bah, he'll stop any minute, don't worry." Engie tapped Pyro's masked head gently. 

"Mmmh mmph?" 

"I don't know what I'd do if he goes on. We could probably just go and ask him to tone it down?" 

Pyro frowned. The fire expert put his hands on his mask left and right, on his ears, and shook his head. He visibly had had enough of it.

"Right, wanna go now?" Engie asked and Pyro nodded. "Alrighty then, let's go, firefly."

Both exited the comfort of the sofa under the blanket and eventually, Engie's garage. They took a flight of stairs down to the bar where the sound of the piano and the voice was coming from. That underground floor was divided into two parts: the training room and the bar. That's where the mercenaries would spend most of their Friday evenings, drinking and chatting. 

"Hold on, Py'!" Engie held Pyro back as he was about to push the door and blast in. "Look, it ain't Demo at the piano…" 

Both peaked through the round windows - with Engie on the tip of his toes - on the double door and stared. 

"Mph?!" 

"Sshh! He might hear you. Listen to what he's singing…" 

They watched a man who was giving his back to the door play and drum his fingers on the keys. There was no way to mistake him. He was wearing a white shirt and they couldn't see his hair, it was hidden under a mask. Both Engie and Pyro squinted as they stuck their ear to the door. They could understand the lyrics of the song quite clearly and what they heard made Engie's jaw drop. His eyes shrank and Pyro tilted his head on the side. He wasn't understanding why his friend looked so surprised.

"C'mon, Py', we gotta talk to Sniper." Engie took Pyro by the hand and dragged him along. 

"Mmh-mmph?" 

Meanwhile, in the campervan, Sniper was in bed, lying on his back and staring at the starry night through the ceiling window. He sighed and put a hand below his head. 

"Gosh…"

His mind was replaying the events of the night before. As all Friday nights, the mercenaries were at the bar downstairs, Demo was playing and singing with Soldier, while Engie, Pyro and a few others were chatting around a table with a few beers. 

Sniper was at the counter, on serving duties and Spy stayed with him. They spent the evening chatting, exchanging jokes and banter, between drinks. 

"Please, Bushman, my glass is empty." Spy pushed his wine glass to Sniper. 

"Nah."

" _Pardon?"_ Spy asked in his mother tongue. 

"Let's try something different, eh." Sniper arched an eyebrow as he put a bottle of whiskey and two glasses on the counter. "What d'you say, posh enough fer you?" 

"Oui, and clearly way too _posh_ for you." Spy answered and they exchanged a chuckle. Sniper poured them a glass and they raised them. 

"To us, eh?"

"To you and me." Spy answered and they tipped their glasses before drinking. 

"What d'you say about this bottle? Bought it m'self the other day." 

Spy smiled behind his mask. 

"Well, I would say it tastes like your appearance." 

"And what'd that be, eh?" Sniper asked, resting his elbows on the counter. 

"Scruffy, a little rough, but very enjoyable." Spy winked at his colleague who chuckled. 

"Pff, right, yeah." 

"And what do _you_ think of this whiskey, Bushman?"

"Well, a bit like you too then."

"That is to say…?" 

"Awfully posh, but awfully good too." Sniper winked back and Spy's eyebrows jumped before he chuckled. 

"Not bad, Bushman, not bad. You definitely have a better sense of repartee than I thought you did."

"Not good to assume stuff about people, Spook."

"As if you didn't assume anything about me, hm?" 

"Well, you wear a mask'n all, you're looking for it."

"Everyone wears a mask, Bushman, even if you can't see it with your eyes or through your scope." 

Their eyes lingered on each other.

"Guess so." 

"But of course." Spy took a swig of the whiskey and went on. "Look me in the eye and dare tell me you are not hiding anything, hm?" 

Gosh. 

Sniper remembered the ice blue eyes, the sheen of which made silver look dull in comparison. He sighed in his van and his mind kept on projecting the reel of the movie that contained the previous night. He couldn't know or realise it, but the Aussie was smiling.

Meanwhile, in the base….

"Yeah!" Pyro and Engie climbed the stairs back up and dashed through the corridors until they exited the base building altogether. "Mundy, that's Sniper's name." 

"Whmh thm fmm?!" 

They saw the campervan and Engie turned to look Pyro in the eye. 

"Look, I don't know, but this clearly wasn't intended to us but to him. We can't go back to the garage and pretend nothing happened. Let's tell him." 

"Nnm!" 

"Why? What should we do then? Oh, I know." Engie thought out loud. "Follow me."

They took the few steps that separated them from the campervan, and Engie knocked. 

"Who's that?"

"It's Pyro'n I, Sniper." 

There was a bit of noise before the door opened.

"Yeah?"

Sniper opened, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and an old grey tanktop. Of course, his yellow aviators were on his nose.

"Hey, Sniper, uhm, sorry to bother you that late but uh…"

"Everythin' alright?" 

"Y-yeah, well, yeah, don't worry but uh… Pyro and I here need to show you something." Engie put a hand behind his neck nervously.

The tall Aussie sighed and his shoulders sank. 

"Can't it wait for tomorrow? It's late, mate." 

"I-yeah, we know but uh, no, you'd better come and see now. Please…?" 

Sniper raised an intrigued eyebrow. What was causing Engie to barely look him in the eye when he spoke to him…?

"Right… Let me put on somethin' decent."

"Sure, we'll wait here." 

Sniper closed the door again. He put on his work polo shirt and brown trousers before slipping on his boots.

"Right." He opened the door and jumped off of his van. "Let's go." 

"Thanks, pardner." 

They entered the base building and walked through the corridor to the stairs. Some of their colleagues were in the living-room, watching television. The trio didn’t mind them and took the stairs down. 

"Did you invent somethin' for my guns? Mate, look, I told ya, I like to work on my rifles _my way._ Now, I respect your trade and stuff but-"

"No, no, Sniper, it's not me. Uh, by the way, noticed anythin' odd with Spy?" 

"No, I mean, I don't know, I don't pay attention to people much… Why?"

"You'll see…"

Sniper's eyebrows jumped when they continued taking the stairs down and passed Engie's garage without stopping there. 

"There, uh…"

"What? You came for me to listen to Demo drunk, playin' and singin'?" Sniper raised an annoyed eyebrow when the sound of the music hit his ears. 

"No, now, shh, be quiet and follow us." 

All three of them approached the door. 

" _Right, now, look."_ Engie whispered and pointed at the window on the door. Sniper looked through it. 

"What? Spy's playin' music? You got me out in the middle of the bloody night for that?" 

" _Shh! And listen to the lyrics…"_

Seeing Engineer and Pyro sticking their ears to the door, Sniper copied them and frowned. 

_"Right, Pyro and I gotta go. Listen carefully and uh… Well, the rest is on you, pal."_ Engie tapped Sniper's shoulder and Pyro mimicked him on the other one. 

"What?" Sniper's eyebrows jumped as his colleagues went away. "What the hell…?"

Spy started playing the intro. 

{To the readers: the song is "Love me, please love me", by Michel Polnareff.}

_"Love me,_

_Please, Mundy"_

Sniper's eyebrows jumped. Did he really say…? Nah, nah, he might have dreamt it or misheard it or something. Sniper closed his eyes for an instant to listen better.

_"Je suis fou de vous!_

_[I am crazy about you!]_

_Pourquoi vous moquez-vous chaque jour_

_[Why do you make fun everyday]_

_De mon pauvre amour?"_

_[Of my poor love?]_

Sniper stayed there and listened as much as he watched. Spy seemed absorbed in his playing. His back was hunched and only when his voice punched powerfully through the air would he straighten his back.

_"Si j'en crois votre silence,_

_[If I believe your silence,]_

_Vos yeux pleins d'ennuis,_

_[Your bored eyes]_

_Aucun espoir n'est permis._

_[No hope is allowed for me.]_

_Pourtant je veux jouer ma chance_

_[Yet I want to try my luck,]_

_Même si, même si_

_[Even if, even if]_

_Je devais y brûler ma vie."_

_[I have to burn my life trying.]_

Sniper still had no idea why on Earth Pyro and Engie wanted him to see that. Yeah, alright, apparently Spy could play the piano and sing; and it was something else from Demo's drunken concerts. As with everything else that had to do with Spy, his playing and singing were delightfully poetic, almost dramatic. His whole body was rocking back and forth in rhythm and he would raise his head when his voice strained to get to the higher pitched notes. 

_"Love me, please Mundy!"_

Sniper's jaw dropped. No. No, he couldn't have heard it right… He decided to slowly push the door and slip inside the room. He got closer little by little, making sure not to make a noise.

_"Je suis fou de vous!_

_[I am crazy about you!]_

_Pourtant votre lointaine froideur_

_[Yet your distant coldness]_

_Déchire mon cœur."_

_[Tears my heart apart.]_

Sniper bit his lip. Whatever Spy was singing, he had a bloody good voice. Oh, bugger! Sniper froze when he realised that his shadow was cast over Spy and the piano. It was a question of time before Spy would stop, turn and no doubt kill Sniper…!

He winced and closed his eyes, anticipating the music to stop. But it didn't and Sniper opened his eyes again. How did Spy not notice the shadow? Sniper walked carefully around the piano and noticed that Spy's eyes were in fact closed. He was so deep into what he was doing that he had his eyes closed. But his face was so… _expressive._ Sniper could almost read the subtitles of what his friend was singing.

_“Love me, please Mundy!_

_Je suis fou de vous!_

_[I am madly in love with you!]_

_Mais vous, vous moquerez-vous toujours_

_[But you, will you always ignore]_

_De mes larmes d'amour?"_

_[my tears of love?]_

Sniper’s jaw dropped. So Spy was really singing about… _him?_ But, why?

The Aussie stared at his friend and now he noticed it.

_Bugger…_

The Frenchman had tears rolling down his cheeks. Two scintillating roads down his upper cheeks that ended up in two stains of darker red on his mask. Sniper couldn’t believe his own eyes. Spy finished the song with a solo on the piano, his head lowered and frowning. After his fingers played the last arpeggio, he sighed and let the sound of the last note slowly dissolve in the air.

He put a hand in his pocket and took a handkerchief out to wipe his eyes and upper cheeks. He sniffed, and at the other end of the piano, Sniper was out of breath, paralysed and humbled by a show that he slowly realised was indeed meant for him.

Spy looked up.

“Argh?! What are you doing here?!”

“Spook, I… Hold on, Spook!”

The Frenchman cloaked and only the sound of his shoes on the floor and the door swung open could give away his position to Sniper. He had ran away.

_No… No, please…!_

Sniper ran after him and through the stairs and the corridor, until he saw the door with the knife symbol open and shut quickly. Sniper stopped his race at that door and tried to catch his breath. 

“Spy…! Spy, wait…!”

“Go away!” Spy answered.

“No! Please…! Please, Spook, I… I gotta ask….”

“Non!” The muffled voice answered in French.

“Spook…” Sniper looked left and right. No one was in the corridor. “Please, I need to know…”

Sniper waited and after a few seconds that felt like days, he heard the lock yield and the door opened slightly.

“Come in.”

The Aussie obeyed and shut the door after him. When he turned to face the room, Spy had already hidden away on his armchair, giving his back to him. 

“Spook, uh…”

“How long had you been there?” He asked.

“A minute, maybe two.”

“So you heard the part with your name?”

“Y-yeah, I did.” Sniper came closer, this time, he didn’t deafen the sound of his heeled boots on the wooden floor.

Spy screwed his eyes shut.

“I presume you want to mock me for my sentimentality. I owe you no explanation, Sniper. Feel free to ridicule me, I shall not add a word.”

“No, Spook.”

“Huh?” Spy gasped when he felt Sniper’s hands land on his shoulders, from behind.

“I wanted to ask you what the bits in French mean.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah, it does.” Sniper answered, standing behind the armchair. “Please…?”

Spy hesitated but Sniper’s hands on his shoulder started to move and they pulled the honesty out of him, against his will, against his professionalism, against his decades as an expert liar.

_“Love me, please Mundy.”_

Spy sang a capella, not louder than a thin whisper. He was dying of shame, embarrassment. How on Earth did Sniper hear him from his campervan? Why did he happen to be there? It mattered little. What mattered is that he had heard him sing. Gosh, that was terrible. 

_“I am madly in love with you._

_But you, will you always ignore_

_My tears of love?”_

Spy put a hand on his face to cover his shame.

“Spook…”

“Go ahead then, laugh, mock me, point your finger at me and laugh.”

“No. It’s… It’s beautiful.”

Spy’s eyebrows jumped and he felt Sniper’s hands stop on his shoulders. His fingers dug deeper before one hand took off of the Frenchman’s white shirt.

“Spy?”

“What now…?” He sighed.

“What’s your name?”

“Lucien.” Spy answered without even trying to hide his identity.

“Look here, Lucien.” Sniper looked down and Spy looked up, they saw each other upside down. Gosh, even the wrong way around, Spy’s eyes were something…! 

“Oui…? What are you-?”

Sniper bent down and put his lips on Spy’s forehead. He left a long and silent kiss before resting his forehead against Spy’s. 

“I can’t remember how your song goes in French but uh…” Sniper whispered. “ _Love me, please Lucien…”_

Spy’s insides burnt. It was out of tune, out of the rhythm, out of anything and everything. But God was it strong… Lucien raised his glistening eyes higher up. Sniper was smiling, upside down, yes, but he was smiling. Lucien raised a shy, gloved hand up towards Sniper’s face and when the velvet of his glove came into contact with the Aussie’s rough cheek, Sniper closed his eyes, to fully focus on that new sensation. Spy’s eyes darted left and right, half fearing the moment when Sniper would push him back and laugh at him, humiliate him and laugh twice; once for his sentimentality, which is a weakness for a mercenary like him, and a second time because for a moment, he made him believe that he too had fallen for him.

But the mocking snicker never happened and Spy’s entire palm was on Sniper’s slim cheek. The Aussie chuckled and Spy got scared. That was it, here comes the humiliation.

“Your gloves are very soft, Spook, what about your hand?”

Spy’s eyebrows jumped and a tear ran down his cheek. He pulled his gloves away from his hands in a flash and raised his one up again. 

“Oh… Gosh… You have hands like a sheila… So soft…” Mundy leaned in to have more of his face in contact with the Frenchman’s hand. “And that smell… Vanilla?”

“I… I use a cream.”

Mundy chuckled but his eyes were still closed.

“Why didn’t you say anythin’ earlier? Why cry in your corner?” He finally opened his eyes.

Spy lowered his head and his hand.

“I did not know how you would react. So I kept it to myself.”

“But, Spook…” Mundy went to the sofa and sat down at the edge of it, reaching out, he took Lucien’s naked hand in his. “You thought I’d make fun of you? Why? There’s nothin’ to laugh about?”

Lucien shook his head.

“On the contrary. There is plenty to laugh about. A man who likes another man? Me who likes _you?_ The masked man who likes the marksman? The man who hides everything until his very face, in love with… with…?”

“I also hide my face, eh. Look.” Mundy removed his yellow aviators. “Now you see me.” He smiled.

Lucien didn’t know how to react, what to think. He never thought that could happen.

“I… I love you.” The words came out of the Frenchman’s mouth faster than he could control.

“I love you too, you posh snob.”

Lucien raised his head to Mundy and they exchanged a smile.

“C’mere…” 

Lucien stood off of his armchair and was about to sit on the sofa next to his now _more-than-friend_ , but Sniper stopped him.

“No, _c’mere…”_ Sniper pulled him to sit on his lap.

“Oh… I see…” Lucien blushed beyond his ears.

“Yeah, get comfy, c’mon, where’s the confidence and the arrogance, eh?”

“Sniper…!”

“No, not Sniper, I’m Mundy, now. And, you, you’re Lu’.”

“Lu’?”

“Yeah, Lu’... Why’re you smiling like that?”

“Lu is a brand of biscuits back in France, and no one ever called me this way before.”

“Well, you’re one hell of a complicated biscuit, Lu’.” Mundy wrapped his arms around Lucien. “Hey…?”

“Mh?” Lucien looked in Mundy’s eyes.

“Gimme a kiss.”

“W-What? Sniper! I mean, Mundy!” 

“C’mon, don’t make me believe you’re shy, eh. You were the one singin’ your lungs out and - mh!”

Lucien’s hands cupped Mundy’s face and pulled him closer before his lips latched onto the man he had cried for, not an hour ago, as he drummed his heart out on the ivory keys of the piano, wringing his longing out of his soul.

“Gosh, you know how to kiss, eh?”

“And you know how to hug…”

Lucien crossed his feet and hugged Mundy, burying his head deep in the crook of his neck.

“Lu’...?”

“Oui?”

“Can I see your face?”

“Non.”

“But you gave me your name.”

“Spend the night with me, and I will think of it.”

“Well, that’s a win-win situation for me…!”

They exchanged a chuckle before Sniper turned and took Spy’s lips again, pulling him harder against himself.


End file.
